Golden Truths and Black Souls
by SpartAl412
Summary: The trade routes of Segmentum Obscurus are being threatened by the piratical activities of a Renegade Space Marine Chapter and among those affected is a powerful Rogue Trader Dynasty that is willing to go through any length to safeguard their profits. Yet what force in the Galaxy would willingly face a group of Astartes Corsairs? An all together different kind of pirate of course.
1. Prologue

_Somewhere in Segmentum Obscurus…_

The great ship shook with a deep, thunderous rumble and the high pitched screech of metal could be heard by those within the dark cells. Men and women gasped in horror for they expected at any moment for the great starship to be obliterated in a wave of fire that would instantly reduce their bodies into dust. When the moment passed and an uneasy silence followed, they began to desperately pray to the God Emperor for deliverance.

Among these poor wretches was a man named Jared Kollen whose eyes were tightly shut as he too prayed to Him on Earth. Like many of the other people within the holding cells of the ship, he had once lived in the Hive City of Sorres Prime. He was not a bad person or at least he hoped he was not for he had been one of the lucky few in the Lower Hive to find legitimate employment in the Upper levels of the Hive as a dock worker at the Spaceport where crime and violence was far less severe than in his neighborhood which was ruled by a gang called the White Skulls who often left him alone as long as he paid his protection money.

Then came the Adeptus Arbites who began one of their brutal culls and the life Jared had known had come crashing down around him. He saw men and women he had known since he was child be gunned down like animals by the Judges who did not discriminate between those who fought back or those who tried to flee for all were guilty in their eyes. The last thing he knew about the cull was the intense agony as a Shock Maul had struck him over the back of the head and the faint feeling of being dragged away by the Judges.

Now he was here, aboard a starship of the Imperial Navy that transported supplies and goods to warzones across the Imperium. He had always wanted to leave the Hive and go out into the stars, but not like this, not as a slave who was whipped and beaten to work the arcane machineries of the ship. He had no idea of how much time had passed since he had been taken from his Hive for there was no such thing as day or night within the steel halls of the ship.

Life aboard the ship was a different kind of Hell in comparison to the lower hive for they had been forced to work sixteen hour shifts of back breaking labor where the merest infraction resulted in a public scourging, if you were lucky. Disease ran rampant across the work gangs, claiming dozens if not hundreds of lives while the officers of the Navy wore protective masks and suits to protect them from such outbreak. It mattered little for the crew aboard the ship of how many workers died for always they could easily just get more and if the Ecclesiarchal priests were to be believed, then their suffering, their deaths was not in vain for they would die as martyrs for the Imperium.

There were many a time when Jared thought about just trying to murder one of the Navy officers who had had been assigned to oversee their labor for to die from a bullet would be far more preferable than what his life had become. Now all of that had changed when something had attacked the ship and the alarms had gone off. The work gangs had been herded back to their filthy cells which were stained with human waste and the lights were shut down and leaving them quite literally in the dark.

The air recycling systems still worked which at least prevented them from suffocating to death but it was only a small comfort for Jared knew that with a single press of a button or a malfunction from the ship's fickle Machine Spirits, their supply of oxygen could be cut off entirely. And so they remained there in the darkness, praying to the Emperor and listening to the distant sound of fighting aboard the ship. Exactly what had attacked the ship was not known to anyone within the hold and for all they knew; it could have been pirates or xenos.

The thought of the latter filled the work gangs with dread for like all citizens within the Imperium, they knew that the alien was something to be feared, hated and abhorred. Although the ship itself had thankfully not been boarded by aliens since the time Jared had been on it, he had heard tales from other slaves about such events occurring or people who had survived xeno attacks on their home worlds. Soon the sound of fighting eventually ceased and a dread silence filled the holding cells.

And so they continued to watch and wait in the dark, slow breathing could be heard from around Jared. The lights suddenly came back on, blinding the many slaves who gasped or shouted oaths and the distinct hissing sound of the metallic doorway which sealed the holding cells, slid to the sides. Rubbing his eyes and trying to wipe away the brief blindness, Jared heard the sounds of heavy boot steps across the metal floor.

When his vision returned to normal, he wondered if for a moment, he had been dreaming or had become delirious for what he saw was no officer of the Imperial Navy but something that was all too glorious to behold. Not far away from the bars that imprisoned Jared and dozens of others from his work gang, was a massive warrior in armour of grey and gold. The warrior's helmet was hooked upon the side of his waist to reveal features were proud, noble and strong with a mane of rich black hair, fair skin and eyes of deepest blue.

A Space Marine realized Jared with awe as he looked up to one of the legendary warriors who were said to be the right hand of the Emperor himself. The Space Marine calmly surveyed the holding cells and Jared saw an expression of sadness appear upon the face of the demigod who then began to speak in a voice that was both strong yet kindly at the same time.

'I am Battle Brother Jaime Vellock of the Aquilla Veritas, and I am here as your liberator' said the Space Marine and it was then that Jared realized that the great warrior was carrying something over his right shoulder which then set down on the floor.

Quickly did Jared realize that it was a large, leather sack with the barrels of several guns poking out from it. The Space Marine then began to walk towards the nearest cage which just happened to be the one Jared was imprisoned in and instinctively, he and those next to him began to back away. The Space Marine then gave them a soft smile which felt reassuring for it was one that quietly said "trust me"

The mighty Space Marine then placed his gauntleted hands upon the bars of the cage and with some effort, the Space Marine began to pull the bars. Steel groaned in agony as it bent out of shape and light beads of sweat began to appear on the Marine's forehead. He then let go of the bars as soon as an opening large enough for a person to move through appeared and he took a step back.

'I offer you all now, a choice' said the Space Marine 'join us , the Aquilla Veritas and join our Crusade to make the Imperium as our Emperor envisioned it! To change the crumbling cesspit of corruption the High Lords of Terra has made it and to build a better future for all mankind!'

Jared and many of those around him gasped for they could hardly believe what the Space Marine was saying. To change the Imperium, to challenge the authority of the High Lord of Terra was both heresy and treason in the highest magnitude and yet… The way this Space Marine spoke, the conviction and the weight of his words, there was something about him which said that it was possible, that everything he said was something they could actually achieve.

Jared thought back to his younger years in the Hive, the misery and poverty which so many people lived while the nobles of the Upper Hive grew fatter. He remembered not only the recent Arbites cull that had brought him away from his home world but even the ones before that. Within the Hive, he saw many injustices caused by those in power and having talked to the other slaves, he knew that in many places across the Imperium, justice was dead word.

'I will join your crusade!' announced one man, a strong, barrel-chested fellow who was one of the newer slaves. 'My brother was pressed gang by the Mechanicus and they turned him into a servitor!' the man then said with his hands clenching into fists.

'Them Witch Hunters burned down half me village!' said a woman from somewhere at the back of the cage 'they said they was looking for heretics but they didn't find any, we was good, honest folk we was and they just killed a lot o us to be sure!'

Voices soon began to rise, each one a tale of the injustices done to them at the hands of the Imperium's authorities. The Space Marine then raised his right hand and immediately they were silenced.

'This is not what our Emperor wanted!' said the Space Marine. 'our Imperium is infected with a great cancer from within and we of the Aquilla Veritas wish to excise that cancer! But we cannot do this alone for we are merely a single Chapter! Join us! And together we can bring the Truth which the Emperor himself wanted for all of us!'

'We're with you my lord!' announced the first man who spoke and another rose up to declare his allegiance to the Space Marine. Soon more and more of the slaves began to rise to announce their willingness to join the cause. Among them was Jared who vowed to follow the Aquilla Veritas and the Crusade of the Truth.

* * *

 _Months later…_

'What a shithole' said Maric van Hoenn.

Erron Caulder could whole heartedly agree. When they had first stepped off of their ship and into the spaceport, the first they knew about the place was the stench. The fetid smell of rotted garbage mixed the exhaust of spent fuel and chemicals both industrial and narcotic, created an odious mélange which forced the two men and eight guards to don breathing masks.

Their ears were assailed by a cacophony of various noises which ranged from voices speaking in various languages, songs, liturgies, the horns of vehicles, the advertisements of merchants and many other types of sound. The streets were crowded with hundreds of people, some looked to be simple travelers, merchants or workers, some had the shady looks of thieves looking for an easy mark while others had the dangerous stances of men and women who knew quite well, how to kill.

For four years now, Erron Caulder had been a Seneschal for his master, the Rogue Trader, Leonhardt Metzger II who was the head of Metzger & Sons Corporation. His predecessor had met with an unfortunate demise after being introduced face first to the business end of an ork pirate's axe and ever since taking that man's place, Erron had found himself doing quite a variety of multiple tasks for his employer. Their current task was to deliver a message which the Rogue Trader had been very particular in emphasizing that it must be brought by hand and by someone who was part of the upper echelons of Metzger & Sons.

Erron had to admit that he felt a bit honoured that he, a humble servant would be thought highly of by his employer. The Seneschal himself was a thin, bookish man who wore a modest justaucorps of bright green with golden ivy patterns, black breeches, a white silk cravat and cuffs of the same material and he even wore powdered white wig. A well crafted Laspistol was holstered by his right waist and the Seneschal was more than capable of using it along with the red lens bionic monocle upon his right eye to put a laser between an attacker's eyes.

His companion, one Sir Maric van Hoen, certainly cut quite the impressive figure. He was dressed in a bright blue and gold coat that was quite similar to the ones used by the high ranking officers of the Imperial Navy along with a large tricorn hat that proudly displayed the golden insignia of their company. What truly marked the man who was an Arch Militant for their employer was his weaponry for his strong, calloused hands remained close to a highly ornate bolt pistol and a chainsword.

The armed guards who accompanied them stood in contrast to the two men for they were garbed in suits of black carapace armour worn over brown combat fatigues. They looked very much like the older generations of the Imperial Guard's Storm Troopers, especially with their entirely face concealing gas masked helmets which had two red eye lenses. Each of the mercenaries were equipped with Merovech Pattern Lasguns which carried two power cells was supposedly better suited for close quarter fighting.

Even though both men had never been here, they knew well enough of the infamous reputation of this lawless place that was known as Footfall. Centered around a massive statue of the God Emperor, the void port was quite notorious for being a place where the laws of the Imperium held little sway. It is said that in this wretched den of scum and villainy, one could find every vice known to man and learn a few new ones as well.

Having been given the address of an establishment called Paradise Vale, it became a simple thing to ask for directions from the one of the locals who happened to be an old woman selling corpse starch which was transported around within a cart. The food vendor easily gave them the information they needed but the Seneschal had also noted the hint of fear within the old woman's tones. Knowing well enough just what kind of dangers could be found in lawless places like Footfall, Erron endeavored to ask if there was anything they needed to worry about around the Vale.

'Lots of gangers and nasty blokes around there' said the old woman in a cautionary manner while shaking her head 'aint just the Narcs and the Tutors that now stay around those parts'.

'Could you care to elaborate?' asked the Seneschal with curiosity for if there was the possibility of a fight, he needed to get every bit of information he could find so that he may plan accordingly.

'Some mercenaries set up shop over there' said the food vendor while pointing her withered chin to the east where the Vale was 'real nasty pieces of work they are, last week they got into a scrap with some heretic cultists and they publicly burned the survivors for laughs.'

'Holy shit, you serious' spoke one of the guards.

'Aint so strange around here' shrugged the old woman 'just yesterday, I saw some unlucky scav get his guts eaten by a pack of Kroot'.

Ah yes, the Kroot noted Erron for among the many lovely things he had heard about Footfall was that aliens actually operated openly within the void port. There were even rumors of entire cults dedicated to the Dark Gods that operated within this place. Reaching into one of his pockets and producing a silver coin, Erron handed it to the old woman who gave him a simple nod before going back to hawking her wares.

'This could be interesting' commented Maric who stroked his bare chin and Erron could detect the hint of eagerness in the Arch Militant's voice.

'Remember that we are not here to go start a fight' said Erron with some annoyance for more than once in the past, the Arch Militant was eager to go out and start trouble.

'Of course' nodded Maric in a dutiful manner while wry grin came across his face.

Following the directions of the old vendor, they made their way on foot to the Vale without any incidents but they eventually began to become tenser as they entered a much seedier looking part of the port (which was saying a lot) where armed gangers gave them appraising looks. When they found the establishment, it was as Erron suspected, quite far from being a paragon of hospitality.

The Vale was a rather large but very dingy looking bar that would not look out of place in the lowest reaches of a Hive City, its stone grey exterior was covered in centuries of ganger graffiti and grime. Mean looking tattooed men and women dressed in a variety of leather clothing that was often adorned with chains and spikes were going in and out with more than few clearly being under the influence of some narcotic intoxicants. There was even a very pale and clearly deceased man lying in the gutter not far from the entrance which the locals hardly even noticed.

'I take back what I said earlier' said Maric 'now this is a real shithole'

Again did Erron agree and with a quick command, they made their way into the Paradise Vale. They entered the building unopposed and the first thing the Seneschal noted was its dark and misty interior. Narcotic fumes filled the air as dim lights casted only a small amount of illumination and he activated his bionic monocle's night vision mode. The music was slow, rhythmic and utterly detestable to the ears of the Seneschal who preferred the elegant instruments used to entertain the elite members of Imperial Society.

Keeping one hand close to his laspistol, Seneschal Caulder crunched the numbers in his mind and he concluded that the guards who had accompanied them may not be enough if things turned to violent. The patrons within the Vale were now almost entirely composed of savage looking gangers who all bore similar red, serpentine tattoos. He noted how each one carried a knife or a gun with more than a few giving them dangerous looks like the way those would-be thieves did and he also was aware of how many of them seemed quite confident in their chances.

Aside from drinking, more than a few were engaging in the use of various drugs, whether it be in form of syringe, a pill, powder or a gas, all seemed to already be heavily doped up. Maintaining his composure, the Seneschal walked towards the bar area with a confident stride while staying alert for any dangers. The barkeeper, who was a pudgy, older man with dark skin, was busily pouring a drink for a pair of female gangers who wore some rather scandalously provocative garments along with gilded torcs that were etched with sharp looking sigils.

As the Seneschal and his company drew closer, the barkeeper and the two gangers turned their attention to them with one of the latter giving a feral grin which revealed teeth that had been filed into sharp points. To the bionic eye of the Seneschal which began to analyze the chemical compounds of the drink, he was surprised to find that it was an actual form of wine made from fermented fruit. In establishments like this, he would expect that the drinks which were served would be composed of cheap organic materials combined with industrial chemicals.

'What can I get you?' asked the bartender in a none too friendly tone while keeping one hand close to a holstered stub pistol and the Seneschal quickly brought his attention to the man.

'We are looking for someone' replied the Seneschal with a smooth voice while maintaining a formal and courtly tone 'a mercenary captain who goes by the name of "The Wrathbringer"'

'He is over there' replied the bartender who tilted his head over to one darkened corner of the establishment where the two female gangers from earlier had settled down and there was a third figure who was hidden in the darkness and he realized that the gloom was not natural but one created by artificial means.

With a nod and a word of thanks to the bartender, the Seneschal and his company made their way to the one they sought. He remembered the speech which he had prepared for this moment and after a few paces he told Maric and the guards to wait exactly twelve feet away from the darkened corner. As he drew closer, he noticed the wary looks from the nearby tattooed gangers who inched their hands closer to knives and pistols.

The Seneschal then halted about three feet away from the table which had a semi-circular sitting booth and he heard a deep voice begin to speak in a smooth, cultured but distinctly accented Low Gothic that had a sibilant edge to it.

'And who is this I wonder, he who dares to come into the Dragon's lair?' said the third figure in the gloom as the two women from earlier held onto the one Erron surmised was this "Wrathbringer".

Straightening himself up and clearing his throat, the Seneschal then spoke with all of the formality he could give. 'I am Erron Caulder' he said 'Seneschal of my Master, the Rogue Trader, Lord Leonhardt Metzger II, Owner and Chief Executive Officer of the Metzger & Sons Corporation who extends to you, Lord Wrathbringer, his warmest regards along with an offer for a contract.'

Amused laughter that was both genuine and mocking came from the shrouded figure and there was something about it that began set off warning bells in the mind of the Seneschal. The being who had been called Wrathbringer then touched something on his person and the dark veil around him faded to the same level darkness around the establishment. It took all of Erron Caulder's will to avoid stepping back in shock for immediately did he realize that the one his employer had sent him to find was in fact, no man at all.

A slight grin spread across the face of the pale skinned, black haired, dark armoured, angular faced creature with pointed ears, sharp teeth and almond shaped eyes that were the colour of deep purple amethysts which seemed to pierce the Seneschal's very soul.

'Now tell me' said the malevolent alien being who was titled Wrathbringer in an imperious and mocking tone 'what does that old Mon'keigh, Metzger now want dead?'


	2. Chapter 1

Sweat began to bead around the forehead of the Seneschal as he sat down along the right arm edge of the semi-circular seating booth. He suppressed the instinct to grab his laspistol for he knew that to do so, he and his company would have a most difficult, close quarters battle on their hand along with the displeasure of his employer if he even survived. The mercenary captain he had sought out was now quietly reading the unrolled scroll of parchment paper which Erron had delivered while the female companions of the alien kept a watchful eye on the Seneschal.

Although the Seneschal was aware that his employer, Lord Leonhardt Metzger had on occasion, made dealings with xenos (as was within the rights of the Metzger Dynasty's Warrant of Trade), Erron had never expected that his employer also made dealings with the worst kind of alien. Like many Voidfarers across the Imperium, Erron had grown somewhat familiar with more than a few of the different alien species which occasionally preyed on Imperial shipping lanes but, yet none were as terrible as the being that now sat only a few feet away from him. Steeling his nerve, he did his best to maintain a calm and professional façade.

Erron Caulder mentally recalled every bit of information he knew about the mysterious alien species known as the Eldar and from what he knew, they were divided into multiple groups. They were supposed to be a very fickle, technologically advanced species who often relied on speed and overwhelming firepower. Of the different factions of the deceitful xenos, there was one in particular which was the cause of much dread for any sane, mortal being.

The alien mercenary who had introduced himself as one, Naranair Wrathbringer, then began to neatly fold the parchment paper and he gave a questioning look to the Seneschal with a single, fine eyebrow raised.

'As intriguing as this offer is' spoke the Eldar 'don't you _Mon'keigh_ have your Inquisition for precisely this sort of occurrence?'

Clearing his throat, Erron calmly then replied as if reciting a memorized speech 'His Immortal Majesty's Holy Ordos, as vigilant and dedicated they are to rooting out corruption and heresy within the Imperium, are unfortunately, unable to prevent or swiftly deliver justice to every fell deed across the Segementums'.

The alien scoffed and sneered at the Seneschal's words. 'Considering how often your Imperium has to put up with rebellions or the Forces of Chaos, I am surprised that you all even lasted this long in the Great Wheel'.

'Be that as it may' spoke Erron with annoyance as he brought their conversation back on track 'it is of utmost importance that this mission remains unknown to the Inquisition for important reasons which we have little need to disclose of.'

'I see' came the intrigued reply of the alien while gently stroking his pale pointed chin 'and I trust that my warband will be adequately armed and not be fighting alone in this task? Astartes are a far more dangerous sort of prey when compared to the Stryxis, Rak'gol and the Reaver bands which plague this section of the Great Wheel.'

'My employer has made the necessary arrangements to ensure your success, Lord Wrathbringer' bowed the Seneschal 'the ship I have traveled aboard has its cargo hold fully stocked with the armaments you will need along with the agreed upon down payment, if you accept of course.'

'And my… "support" for this contract?' questioned the alien.

'Only if you accept for Lord Metzger has made it very clear that your participation is the only thing that can make this mission possible' replied the Seneschal. The alien became silent for a moment and Erron could guess that he was weighing the risks and rewards before finally; a cruel grin appeared on the face of the Eldar.

'I supposed that I should be flattered that your master still thinks so highly of my skills' spoke the Eldar with a measure of pride in his voice. 'I shall accept this contract' nodded the alien who slowly leaned back while his female companions rested their heads upon his shoulder.

Slowly rising up from his seat, Erron took a moment to straighten out his clothes before giving smart salute to alien mercenary who then raised a glass in toast to the Seneschal. The many patrons within the establishment then raised their glasses as well and while cheering bloody war cries to both their newest patron and to their captain.

* * *

A cool breeze flowed across the grassy plains, causing each blade of the yellow plants to sway with motion. The warm light of the sun caused the sea of grass to shine like gold, underneath a clear blue sky.

It was all so beautiful thought Jared with awe as he sat upon a grassy hill while a burning lho-stick was placed between his lips, a far cry from the squalor and desolation of his homeworld.

When he had been a boy, Jared had sometimes gone to the great walls of his Hive City and from there, one could see the lands that were laid out away from the great spires. He remembered seeing black plains covered in ash which were occasionally dotted with lakes formed from thousands of years of chemical wastes. The sky was always dark and one never knew whether it would rain or not and if it did, the millenia of pollutants had long ago transformed the falling droplets of water into sizzling showers of acid.

Everything was so different here thought the young man who had lived in the darkened sump pits. You never had to worry about things like Hive quakes, tox-spills, radiation leaks and the regular outbreak of plague. You never had to worry about tribes of cannibalistic mutants, Arbites Culls, gang wars or Uphive Nobles who liked to hunt common folk for sport.

It was here on this planet called Aaru that for first time in the life Jared along with so many others that they had first experienced some of the simple pleasures that were otherwise almost impossible to find in the Hives. That first taste of actual food grown from the soil rather than the artificial, synthetic pastes or bars one can find from a dispenser, to breathe air and water that has not been recycled for Emperor knows how long, to feel actual sunlight upon one's skin. It was for the first time which many of the people who now settled here truly experienced what it meant to be free.

All of this they owed to their liberators among the Aquila Veritas who were now busy among the stars and delivering what they called, the "True Teachings of the Emperor". From the Astartes of the Aquila Veritas, Jared and the others had learned what it was the Emperor himself had truly wanted for humanity and through them; their eyes had been opened to corruption that now plagues the Imperium. From this verdant world they would lay the foundations of a new Imperium of Man, one that does away with the fanaticism and tyranny upheld by those in power.

For the first time in Jared's life, he felt that he was finally doing something right, that he was doing something not for himself but for the greater whole of humanity. He held no illusions that he would live to see the day when this new Imperium was forged for the galaxy itself was a massive place. At the least he could happily die knowing that he did his part in leading mankind to a brighter future.

As soon as he finished his lho-stick, he took one last look at the golden field that lay in front of him before standing back up on his feet. Extinguishing the burning piece of paper and dried leaves by dropping it on the ground and stomping on it, he then returned to the colony where a whole new community was being built.

* * *

'That went surprisingly well' commented Maric while overseeing the security of the transfer of goods.

The Seneschal nodded and placed one hand into his breast pocket where he removed a small golden pocket watch. Things were moving ahead of schedule he noted with satisfaction before placing the timepiece back. Taking a Data-slate which was attached to his belt by a length of chain, he then removed the quill-like stylus attached to the device and he began to take the necessary notes needed for his future report the Lord Metzger.

From the ship they had used to arrive in Footfall, several company owned servitors were carrying heavy crates filled with military grade equipment and munitions which were being delivered to a motley crew of mostly human mercenaries who looked more like Underhive gangers. The alien mercenary captain had charged one of his "lieutenants" in assisting with the security and the xeno's choice was truly quite the fearsome one. Standing not far away from the Seneschal was a particularly massive Ogryn who was also perhaps one of the most intimidating examples he had ever seen of the abhuman breed.

Standing even taller and wider than a fully armoured Space Marine was the Ogryn whom Naranair called "Gorge". The brutish abhuman was lazily snacking away on a raw leg of Grox that dribbled gore across his tan fleshed chest while the rest of his body looked to be more fat than muscle. The Ogryn had a heavy double chin, a thin drooping moustache, multiple bone-like piercing upon his flesh which was heavily decorated which was heavily decorated with sharp tooth-like tattoos.

The Ogryn's garb consisted of a heavy pair of hobnailed boots, trousers, spiked metal bracers and a massive twin-tusked plate which protected the abhuman's belly. Erron also noted a large array of sharp bladed implements which the Ogryn carried on his belt and he quickly recognized that more than a few of those blades were the famed Catachan Fangs. There was only one way in which the Seneschal could think of which a person from that Death World would part with a Fang blade and it only served to heighten his apprehension of this group which actually had a Dark Eldar for a leader.

As loyal as Erron Caulder was to the Rogue Trader, he privately did worry about his employer's choice of dealing with this delicate matter. In his mind, he began to run the calculations on how likely it seemed that the alien and his band of ruffians would betray his employer's trust. Yet he remembered how highly Lord Metzger spoke of this Naranair and how valuable the xeno along with a few other "allies" had made Metzger & Sons one of the more powerful corporations in the Segmentum.

The servitors transferred the crates to a series of armoured half-tracked vehicles which had also been provided by the Rogue Trader (the vehicles of which were also to be given to the mercenaries). As soon as the last trucks had been loaded up and shipped out the massive Ogryn then gave a quick nod to the Seneschal before moving on with the rest of the mercenaries. Relief filled the Seneschal's thoughts for technically this was where his part had ended, for now.

He then heard the voice of Maric ordering their company's own mercenaries, crewmen and servitors to prepare to for departure. As efficiently done as this task had been completed, Erron Caulder could not help but feel more than a bit wary of wherever this was mission was going. Perhaps it might be best to keep an eye on the matter for one could never be too careful when dealing with unsavory types.

* * *

A slight fug of narcotic fumes filled the command bridge of the _Chillwind_ ; dozens of thralls busily worked on the various terminals while at the center of the room was a throne where Naranair Wrathbringer sat down. The ship itself had once been _Mon'keigh_ in origin but was now a bastard mix of various alien technologies, courtesy of the hateful Stryxis who were kind enough to "donate" the ship to the Dark Eldar mercenary captain and his crew along with a large number of their devices and the knowledge of how to operate them. In exchange for their generosity, Naranair had every single one of the ugly, four eyed little mongrels put to death (in ways which were pleasingly slow, artistically messy and quite deliciously agonizing) and their souls harvested for his personal consumption.

There was a small table next to the command throne with a hookah placed upon it and from that device; Naranair filled his lungs with its pleasing smoke. The Dark Eldar used his right hand to tap away on the console in front of him and with it transmitted messages to a few "friends" of his who were operating around the Koronus Expanse. As soon as the messages were sent he took one last puff from the hookah before rising up from his throne and heading off towards the cargo hold. Had he

Like all of his species, Naranair's stride was swift, graceful and silent as his feet barely made any sounds upon the metallic floor. At the moment, he was dressed in set of xenohide clothing which he had acquired at the Nexus of Shadows which had become the base of operations for many Kabals who launched raids on this side of the Great Wheel and on the side of his hip, he carried a holstered Splinter Pistol which had been loaded with a delightfully virulent toxin. He liked to imagine that in the eyes of another, he may appear to be unarmed and non-threatening, a sight that would embolden a potential attacker into making a fatal mistake.

Moving through the crude steel corridor which he had grown accustomed to, Naranair passed by several thralls who busily maintained the ship, each of the cowering aliens bowed down in respect as traveled for often to earn his attention meant only certain death. The Dark Eldar captain had no fear of any form of retribution from among the thralls for each one wore a special collar (also a courtesy from the Stryxis) which helped ensure an adequate degree of obedience. Hardly paying attention to the many thralls, he eventually made his way to the main turbolift which would allow him access to the various levels of the ship.

As soon as the metallic double doors opened, he stepped onto platform and he pressed the button which led down to the cargo hold. After patiently waiting for a few minutes, he vacated the lift and entered the space where several primitive ground-based vehicles were now parked. Slaves and mercenaries began unloading several crates full of the equipment they will need for the coming task and on one side, there was a group of humans who were using a prybar to open the container.

Deciding that he might as well inspect the shipment of equipment, the Dark Eldar moved towards the group of grunting _Mon'keigh_ who followed him. The humans eventually succeeded in opening the crate and as soon as the put aside the lid of the container, they reached into it and began pulling out a series of primitive _Mon'keigh_ guns.

'What do we have here gentlemen?' asked Naranair towards the humans who were immediately startled by his appearance. Instinctively, they reached for their weapons but the moment they saw the Dark Eldar captain, they immediately kept their hands where he could see them.

'Some new type of Lasgun milord' saluted one heavily scarred, dark skinned human male named Kradoc who presented one of the weapons to Naranair. The weapon itself was slightly larger and it looked heavier when compared to the standard laser rifle commonly used by human soldiers and he could see that it had a pair of power cables over where the energy cells would normally be placed. 'I'm told that it's called a Hot-Shot Volley Gun' continued Kradoc who gave the Dark Eldar a malicious grin 'real great for tearing heavily armoured guys a new one.'

'We should endeavor to field test these then' commented Naranair in an intrigued tone for he had grown quite familiar with _Mon'keigh_ weaponry over the passes.

With a quick nod to his underlings, the mercenary captain then turned his attention to the rest of his warband. Among the shipment of equipment, there was a wide variety of arms and armour which ranged from energy based weapons, kinetic slug throwers, explosive ordnance, mundane blades and even chain weapons. Had they been going up against mere Planetary Defense Forces, pirates, reavers or the assorted scum from Screaming Vortex, he would have thought that this arsenal was perhaps more than a bit excessive (not that there is anything wrong with being prepared for a bit of overkill) but against enemies like Astartes, it may not even be nearly enough.

That would be a problem which should be remedied soon thought Naranair for he was confident that the message he had transmitted would be received. All he had to now was wait and until then, he at least had many amusing ways to divert himself.

* * *

A serene silence filled the old shrine room within the Fortress Monastery which had once been devoted to the worship of the Emperor. Once it had been a grand place, decorated with many pieces of religious paraphernalia blessed by the Ecclesiarchy. It had been that way once, before the Chapter of the Eagle Guard had discovered, the Truth.

Dressed in simple clothes composed of a white tunic and sandals, Battle Brother Jaime Vellock sat cross legged in front of the Emperor's statue. Whispering a mantra to clear his mind, the Space Marine quietly went through a series of mental exercises while reflecting upon the choices he had made throughout his long life. Times of introspection such as this were always important, so said the Chaplains of their Chapter for a Space Marine was more than just a killing machine, he was a paragon of everything that could be great or terrible about Man.

In what was a mere five years earlier, the Space Marines of the Eagle Guard had fought against the forces of the Archenemy upon a world called Dolgran Prime and it was there, that the Chapter had shed their allegiance to the Imperium. Their mission at the time had been to protect a cathedral which held holy relics from the time of the Great Crusade. The campaign had been a long and bloody one where Space Marine fought Space Marine in mighty clashes of blades, armour, starships and the purity of blade upon blade.

During the campaign, the followers of the Ruinous Powers had launched a surprise attack against the cathedral where the few Battle Sisters who defended it and the priesthood fought to the very last. The Eagle Guard's mighty 1st Company had arrived just in time with the Chapter Master himself leading the reinforcements; to stop the desecration of the holy relics. It had been a close thing for the objects which they sought to protect had been sealed away in ancient stasis pods and the Chaos forcers had managed to open it.

When the last of the ambushing Chaos Marines had been slain, the leaders of the Chapter had sufficed to say, been surprised to find that what they protected was not some mouldering bones of a saint nor ancient wargear that had once belonged to a hero. What lay within the stasis pod were shelves filled with Archeotech data disks.

Against the wishes of the Chapter Master who ordered for the stasis pod to be sealed again, the Chapter's Master of the Forge secretly downloaded and studied what knowledge the disks contained. What he found and what he would later reveal to the rest of the Chapter, shook their very faith in everything they held dear. The Imperium they had sought to protect, the Imperium that was the bulwark of Humanity against a cruel and uncaring universe, was a lie, a corruption of its original purpose.

Within the ancient disks, they had found recordings, speeches and teachings which were spoken by none other than the Emperor himself. There of course had been disbelief at first among the Chapter but after each of the Battle Brothers had been allowed to watch and see what it contained, there was no possible way which they could deny what they had seen. The Master of Mankind spoke of his vision for the future he wished for humanity, a future which with such conviction, swayed the Space Marines of the Eagle Guard.

What the Emperor wanted was a mighty nation, a new empire to rise up from the ashes of the one lost in the Age of Strife. It was to be an Imperium ruled not by blind religious dogma, fanaticism and superstition but by reason, logic and science. An Imperium that was now represented everything which the Emperor himself had fought so hard against, a fight that had been wasted by the all too human corruption that now plagued the highest echelons of the Imperium.

It was a fight, a cause which the Eagle Guard, now known as the Aquila Veritas, would continue. Even though the greater whole of humanity may think of them as traitors and heretics, Jaime Vellock and all of his Battle Brothers knew the Truth and with it, they knew that their cause was just. It would be a long and hard war, one that would take many years to complete but as they told to those they had liberated, it was merely a small step.

A single step closer to a new, Great Crusade and with that crusade, they would fulfill the dream which the Emperor had for all mankind.

* * *

The sweet kiss of pain rushed through the nerves of Naranair as he slid the edge of a serrated knife across his left palm. Warm, red blood flowed from the fresh wound where it fell upon a clawed hand of shining obsidian. From the lips of the Dark Eldar, he spoke a litany, a prayer to the one god whom all of his kind paid any sort of true devotion to.

Khaela Mensha Khaine, the god of war and murder gazed upon mercenary captain with eyes of polished rubies. Like many of his old Kabal, Naranair had much respect for Khaine, especially in his aspect of war for was war not simply murder on a massive scale? He liked to think so and there were many times which he fancied that the Lord of Murder was also pleased with the sight of mass destruction.

The obsidian shrine that was carved in the likeness of the Bloody Handed one, was slightly shorter than the height of the average Eldar, yet the mere presence of it made Naranair feel as if he were sharing the room with a raging Talos. The blood which the Dark Eldar offered then dripped down into a small brass bowl that was filled with more of the crimson libation. Around Naranair were a small number of his underlings, humans who had abandoned the worship of their Emperor in exchange for the Lord of Murder.

It had been a simple thing to induct these particular humans into the faith of the Bloody Handed for in Khaine, they saw a being who understood the desire for death and blood. These humans who served as his personal retainers, were the fiercest and most cunning fighters in his warband. Each of them were either murderers, psychopaths, arsons or any sort of violent criminal which the draconian authorities of the Imperium would see fit to be placed in a Penal Colony or in the Imperial Guard.

Many of the humans who followed Naranair had similar backgrounds, most were once members of a Penal Legion which he had "liberated" passes ago during a campaign on the borders between the _Mon'keigh_ Imperium and the Tau Empire. It had been so amusing to see the former Penal Legionnaires turn on their fellow guardsmen and engage in an orgy of violence and bloodshed which honestly was the only thing which stopped his fellow Kabalites from the usual treatment which they would give to humans. The rest of the warband were composed of pirates, reavers, mercenaries, mutants and other dregs of _Mon'keigh_ society of whom had sufficiently impressed Naranair with their brutality and lack of petty moralities.

When the Dark Eldar had finished his prayer to Khaine, he stepped to the side and allowed his retainers to pay their respects. Just as Naranair had done, they slid blades across the palms of their hands and they allowed it drop upon the left hand of Khaine while the other held onto a ceremonial sword of silvered steel. When the last of his retainers finished their prayers, Naranair bent down to pick up the brass bowl which had now been filled to the rim with blood.

Placing the bowl to his lips, he ritually drank the mixture of human gore which had only a portion of his own and he felt a rush of energy coursing through his very being. It was all really psychological and ceremonial in purpose he knew but it was something which he considered important for things such as propriety, standards and conduct helped make the Dark Eldar people what they were. Handing the brass bowl to the nearest of his retainers, they began to drain the container one by one until not a drop remained.

The bowl was then given back to Naranair who placed the object back in its place, beneath the clawed hand of Khaine. And with that, the retainers dispersed to carry out their respective duties save for one member remained at the mercenary captain's side. The retainer was a pale skinned human female who sported hair that was cerulean in colour with twin long braids at the back, a physique that was lean yet strong.

Jacqui was the name of this human who had quite the talent for getting in up close with an enemy before ripping and tearing with chainblades while laughing at the agony which she inflicted. Among the warband, she was one of the fastest and deadliest close combat fighters, a contrast to the cannibalistic Ogryn, Gorge who could match an Ork Nob in brute strength and ferocity. Often those two would be the spearheads of assaults which usually ended quite messily for whoever they attacked.

'Do you have something for me?' asked Naranair with an air which mixed cool confidence, superiority and aloofness.

'Got a message for you my lord' replied the human who had an undisguised look of adoration in those eyes which could fool a weak willed _Mon'keigh_ male into thinking that she was an innocent youth.

That should be his reply, was the pleased thought of Naranair who gave the deranged human a cruel smile and she handed him one of those primitive Data-slates. There was a saying among the _Mon'keigh_ Imperium, something about how a slave who should enjoy being lashed. In the case of Jacqui, it was more of her being given the opportunity to lash another for the amusement of the master.

Giving a word of gratitude before politely dismissing the human female, he saw the smile that came upon her face before skipping away and humming some primitive nursery rhyme. Turning his attention back towards the Data-slate, the Dark Eldar was pleased that his message had been received and already, his "friends" were on their way to the designated coordinates. If he were to meet with his old friends then it was an imperative that he look his best for the occasion.

A bath, a fine meal and a nicely soothing bit of bloody torture would accomplish the task. Now that he thought about it, he has not used his flaying kit in a while…


	3. Chapter 2

A calm silence filled the cozy chamber which served as the personal quarters of Amman-Zhar of the Aquila Veritas. The chamber itself was not very large for it was a simple, austere cell where he would retire to when he needed to sleep or to meditate in private. Tendrils of white smoke rose from the mouth of the fiery brazier to his left where five incense sticks burned, each of the burning sticks were made from a mixture of exotic plants which were grown in special greenhouses maintained by the Chapter Serfs and as the vapours filled his lungs, it partially calmed the turmoil within his mind.

Like many Astartes, Amman-Zhar was a giant of a man even without his power armour and on his own; he could easily crush the skull of a normal un-augmented human with his bare hands. His true strength though lay not from his enhanced physical body but in the power of his mind for Amman-Zhar was a psyker and more specifically, he was the Chief Librarian of the Chapter. With his thoughts alone, he could lay waste to squadrons of enemy soldiers, he could dominate the minds of the weak and he could bolster the already considerable might of his battle brothers.

Amman-Zhar currently wore plain robes of white cloth and he sat on a sturdy wooden chair made from local trees found on Aaru which proved surprisingly tough to the point that it took industrial grade chain-blades to cut them down. His forehead rested upon his interlocked hands while his elbows were placed on the surface of a wooden writing desk made from the same material and the object which him vexed him so much, was less than an arm's reach away.

Months earlier, the Chief Librarian had taken part in one of the regular raids which his Chapter conducted for due to their current status as renegades, they were cut off from all conventional and legal supply sources. Out of necessity to keep their ships running, to keep themselves (as well as the serfs and the people they liberated) fed and to maintain their wargear, the Space Marines of the Aquila Veritas, once champions of the Imperium had been reduced to piracy. It was during the boarding of one ship which had belonged to some Rogue Trader owned company that the Librarian had found… it.

The object was nothing more than an ornate metal puzzle box that was roughly about as large as the fist of power armour gauntlets. The box itself was made from some, unknown material which proved highly resistant to psychic manipulation yet within it, he could feel that there was something of power. What was inside, he could not say for sure as he had been attempting to open the puzzle box but to no avail.

There was something about what was inside the puzzle box which often occupied his mind and he knew that it had to be psychic in nature for whenever he slept; he heard something, calling to him from within it. Were it a trapped daemon or some other, malignant warp entity, he would have known for the Librarian had fought many battles against the followers of Chaos and he had become intimately familiar with their insidious ways. He was confident that it was something else, something different, possibly even xeno in origin.

Whatever was inside of the puzzle box, he had to know! He had to find out, yet all of his attempts to open it had been in vain. Taking another deep lungful of the soothing incense, he mentally prepared himself for yet another attempt at trying to open the object. He did not bother to get his hopes for as the old adage went "Hope was the first step on the road to disappointment".

* * *

The endless, starlit void of space was displayed in front of Devon Laques who stood upon the Command Bridge of the _Chillwind_. He was a bald, clean-shaven man of average build with pale skin that was etched with many scars and if one would look closely, they could see the small bionic tubes which connected from the back of his skull to the area of the spine between the shoulder blades. He wore a heavy great flak coat which was useful for carrying many concealed weapons objects and he also wore a pair of black goggles which protected his sensitive eyes.

Devon silently watched as the ship passed by the asteroids, ships and habs which made up Footfall and at the corner of his goggle covered eyes, he saw the statue of the Emperor which served as the center for the entire settlement. It was ironic really that despite the great statue which should have served as a constant reminder of the authority of his Imperial Majesty, the inhabitants of Footfall engaged in some of the darkest of businesses across the galaxy. Take for example the aliens who openly sold their services or wares in the port or the chaos cults which secretly conducted their own foul operations.

It was a place of secrets, lies, half-truths and contraband of the darkest sorts where for the right price, anything could be bought. In the period of time which they had spent there, Devon had learned a great many of interesting things which would no doubt be of value to the right buyer.

'Considering on taking a swim into the void?' came a casually masculine voice that from behind him and Devon remained silent for a moment before speaking.

'If I did so, I would insist that you go first and without a Voidsuit' quietly replied the bald headed man towards another member of their warband who gave the bald man a slight nod.

In another life, Devon Laques and the man named Vandal Saaris would have been sworn enemies for on the world of their birth, they would have thought nothing about killing one another in the endless cycles of gangland warfare. That had all changed after a fateful Arbites Cull which resulted in both of them being sent to a Penal Colony where legions of cannon fodder were trained for the Imperial Guard. Now both men, along with many others from among their warband, probably would at least give it some thought before deciding on whether they should murder each other or not.

Vandal Saaris was a tall, strongly built man with a thick beard and short hair that was always well groomed while. The man almost always wore an advanced, tight-fitting armoured bodysuit which was capable of sustaining life for long periods and was also effective in warning about environmental hazards. He was a very professional and a very orderly man whose immediate followers were much more like a professional regiment of Guardsmen rather than the usual rabid animal which made up most of their warband.

'Has the Captain sent for you?' asked Devon towards Vandal.

'No, he is busy with "entertaining" himself' replied Saaris rather grimly for everyone aboard the ship knew exactly what their Captain did on his own free time.

'I see, you have questions then?' confidently guessed Devon for he was someone who always had ways in finding out what secrets the others carried.

'Aye and I am sure you already know the answer to that' spoke Vandal who pulled up a small packet of lho-sticks and he offered one to Devon who politely declined.

'Of course' nodded the Laques who found Vandal Saaris to be a terribly predictable man. 'Our esteemed Captain' explained Devon 'has just accepted a contract and judging by the fact that he has called upon some of our… "acquaintances" it is most likely to be a difficult task'.

'Considering the kind of hardware we just received, I am betting that it more than just the usual kind of hit' said Saaris who used a small metal lighter to ignite the lho-stick placed between his lips.

'It is safe to assume so' shrugged Devon who then added 'sadly that is all I know so far but I suppose that we can at least trust the Captain in knowing that we will not be sent on some suicide mission.'

'I will make sure my squads are prepped and ready for meeting our guests' spoke Vandal Saaris who gave one last nod towards Laques before heading off towards the exit of the bridge.

The ship then began to power up its xeno-made Gellar Field and Dereven's heart started to pound more heavily as the Warp Drives were also fired up. Looking back to the glass screen which separated him and the dozens of thralls from the emptiness of the void, he saw the storms of eldritch energy that began to appear ahead of them. Great metal shutters soon sealed the every viewport across the ship and the _Chillwind_ left the material universe and into the dread realm of the Immaterium.

* * *

Travel through the Sea of Souls was never a pleasant experience, especially for one of the Eldar species whose own souls were especially considered as a delicacy to the entities that resided within it. There had been many times when Naranair had thought of installing into the _Chillwind_ , the necessary systems needed to bring a ship into the Webway but such a sight would not be welcomed by his kin. Indeed, the act of bringing a crude human ship (especially one that had been altered by those grubby little Stryxis) within the webway would be akin to painting a large target on the broadside and just asking every Craftworld, Kabal and Troupe to just blast the ship into oblivion.

It was one of the many things which he stoically endured, an unavoidable result really after he had decided to strike out on his own, without a crew of other Eldar. Fortunately at the least, the protective field constructed by the four eyed little bastards had proven to be fairly reliable during transit and it was always a top priority of his to make sure that it was well maintained before and after jumps. When it came to navigating through the Sea of Souls itself, the Dark Eldar Captain had gone through considerable lengths to "acquire" the services of alien psykers who could accomplish such an esoteric task.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he then redirected his attention to the matter at hand. The Captain was currently located in his own private quarter which was a lavishly decorated chamber that was fit for an Archon. He had a comfortable bed that was big enough to fit a Cronos (if such a thing still even had need for comfort), shelves filled with various tomes or slates of literature or entertainment both of Eldar and alien sources, an adjoining chamber for bathing and being rid of bodily wastes, a brightly glowing pylon-like Soul Cage which as the name says is for storage purposes and most importantly, there was a section with great chains attached to the ceiling which ended in barbed hooks which could securely hold a prisoner for him to torture at his leisure.

At the moment, there was a rather brawny and heavily sedated human male who dangled from the chains which hooked into the back of the man's flesh. Ritual scars and runic tattoos dedicated to the Blood God were placed all over the well muscled form of the human who was also missing his right leg from the knee which was now just a blackened stump. If there was one thing the Dark Eldar Captain hated more than the Styrxis, it was the followers of the Dark Gods of whom he took a great deal of pleasure in either killing quickly or slowly.

A slight grin came upon his face as he remembered the circumstances which this follower of the Blood God had been captured. His warband had recently been hunting close to the Screaming Vortex where Chaos activity has been increasing and after destroying more than a few ships, he had ordered for the _Chillwind_ to return to Footfall for repairs. It was quite likely that some of the other Chaos worshippers who remained hidden in the port had taken umbrage at his activities and they had sought recompense while he was taking the time to relax at the Vale.

Sufficed to say, it ended in a amusingly one sided massacre for his warband always carried a large variety of deadly guns wherever they went. The surviving cultists of the Gods of Plague and Sorcery were immediately burned for good measure while the rest were locked up in holding cells. Reaching for one of his flensing knives, he wondered where on the human he should start with once the sedatives wore off and immediately he had an amusing idea.

Since the followers of the Blood God loved taking skulls so much then perhaps he should start at the scalp before working his way down…

* * *

Braziers of fire blazed around the Obsidian Shrine where a gathering of hooded figures paid their respects to the Burning God. Each of those in attendance wore robes of deep black which was decorated with fiery patterns of dark crimson and from their lips came promises of murder and blood. Those who had gathered around the shrine called themselves, the Ordo Ignis and their leader was a man who called himself, The Pyrophant.

'All life is sin' intoned the Pyrophant towards his disciples; his voice was deep and muffled by the fully enclosed, black helmet rose which high like those worn by the Heralds and the crimson eye lenses further enhanced its intimidation factor. 'Man is born into sin and in life, commits only greater acts of sin' continued The Pyrophant 'and when the twilight time comes, all Men face damnation for such is the reward of sin.'

'All Men face damnation for such is the reward of sin' repeated the gathered disciples.

'Yet all is not lost, my children' said the Pyrophant with much gravitas. 'For Men can find salvation, in fire'.

'In fire is sin purged' chanted the crowd who slowly began to cast off their robes to reveal bare flesh that was covered in ritual burns. Iron brands were passed among the devoted who slowly converged around the braziers and they began to stick the pieces of metal into the flames.

'And so, in the name of the Burning God do we cleanse ourselves, of sin!' spoke The Pyrophant who raised his hands and in the air, he formed the sign of the flame.

The air was soon filled with the smell of roasting pork as the devotees of the Burning God began to stick the glowing brands upon the flesh of their backs or chest. Some screamed in pain while others grunted yet some, those who were closer to the Burning God, simply remained silent. Through this act of self mortification by flame which was also as much one done of faith, the gathering cleansed themselves of sin.

Once in another life, the man who had been The Pyrophant had been a blind and devout follower of the False Emperor. Once, the man had been a Deacon among the Crusade of Redemption where the man had brought judgment to others by the flame. It mattered not whether the man and the ones he had once called brothers had burned men, women, children, the sick, the elderly, the mutant and those who claimed innocence for all within the Crusade knew that there was no such thing as innocence, only varying degrees of guilt.

The man had believed that he was doing righteous work, that in the deeds of the Crusade, they were saving the souls of those cleansed. On more than a dozen worlds, the man had brought redemption to thousands whose whether unknowingly or not, lived in sin. Those were the days when the man had been so blinded by his ignorance for he had known so little of the universe until that fateful campaign on Mhyrsa.

Mhyrsa was a green world filled with great farms dedicated to growing vegetables, grain, fruit and the raising of livestock, its people were simple, backwards folk whose isolation eventually gave way to strange, superstitious beliefs. It was on that world that the Crusade of Redemption and the Daughters of the Emperor had banded together in preparation for a great campaign towards a nearby star system whose worlds grew benighted. As they were finally about to start the great campaign, a mighty host of the Heralds had arrived to do battle with the combined army.

Despite being armed with the holy trinity of Bolters, Flamers and Melta weapons, the forces of the Adepta Sororitas the Redemption Crusade and even the Frateris Militia had been at a great disadvantage on Mhrysa's open plains. The Heralds had used throughout the conflict, many red and white painted, fast moving vehicles which became blurry mirages whenever one looked at them and the weapons they wielded outranged most of what the combined army had brought. Out on the open terrain which dominated the planet's landscape, the aliens had picked off many of their war machines before committing their ground troops and it was there, that the Pyrophant had seen the true face of a god.

He remembered how on that last great battle, the Daughters of the Emperor stood defiant to the very end, unwilling to withdraw for such would have been considered as heresy in the eyes of the False Emperor. They stood defiant, even when the Burning God, the one who was known to the aliens as Khaela Mensha Khaine, strode forth with burning axe and bloody fist. The Burning God laughed at their use of Flamers and Melta weapons who in turn, sent forth great gouts of flame which reduced all of them, including the Daughters of the Emperor into ashes.

The man had at first, no idea how he had survived that day for he had felt the touch of the Burning God's wrath. By the time he had awoken, all he found was the mounds of charred skeletons which had once been the Sisters and his brothers. His faith in the Emperor had been shaken for how was it possible that the even with the Daughters of the Emperor who could perform their great Acts of Faith could be laid low by the alien?

It was then that he had an epiphany, a realization that changed his life. He had been marked, he had been chosen by the Burning God to spread the fires of salvation throughout the universe! It was on that day, that the man had become The Pyrophant and he began to spread the word of the Burning God across the Imperium.

Of course the Imperial authorities who were still blinded in their belief towards the False Emperor would brand him as a madman and a heretic and sent him to that Penal Colony where they claimed that he would find redemption on the field of battle. The Pyrophant had persevered in his faith towards the Burning God and he had later been rewarded by bringing the flames of redemption to the believers of the False Emperor. He remembered that glorious day when the bomb collars had failed to activate and the first thing he did was grab a heavy flamer and cleanse the commissar of his sins.

The rest was history for soon afterwards, they had been captured by the Heralds and their current lord who took them under his wing. Now here he was, at the head of a new flock who followed the word of the Burning God. Although their lord had insisted that they travel with those who were less than sincere in their faith to the Burning God, the Pyrophant trusted the wisdom of their lord for they had brought salvation to many beings, whether it be man, mutant, alien and even daemon.

The hours long procession of ritual self-mortification eventually halted for a moment as the unnatural feeling of being in the Warp faded and it was then that the Pyrophant knew that they had safely returned to the material universe.

'The Burning God has seen fit to reward our devotion with safe passage!' announced the Pyrophant.

'Praise to the Burning God!' cheered the congregation of the Ordo Ignis who continued with their holy rites.

* * *

Drinking in the exquisite taste of raw agony, Naranair felt invigorated by the suffering of his latest plaything. Dressed now in just a well stitched leather kilt made from tanned ork-hide, the Dark Eldar Captain's bare chest, stomach and arms were coated in fresh, warm, human gore. Blood dripped from the toes of the struggling Khornate cultist who's peeled off flesh cooled on the metallic floor and if one could listen closely, the human's heart still pulsed.

It was a glorious sight really to see all of the exposed meat and musculature for Naranair had been thoroughly careful in his flaying for there was simply no fun in it when the victim died too quickly. The cultist moaned in pain, unable to form coherent words for the Captain had cut off the man's tongue for saying too many vile expletives. It was hardly polite to say such foul things and a lesson in manners was in order.

Now what should he do next he wondered as blood continued to dripped from the slab of meat which dangled before him. It would be improper to bother the medical staff aboard the ship to keep this one alive (and waste precious medicines), yet he couldn't just go and kill the thing, for that would be unsporting. Perhaps he should pour himself a glass of wine and mull it over, he thought before a distinct pattern knocks was heard from the metallic doors which sealed his quarters.

Walking towards the metallic doorway with his bare feet softly slapping upon the floor, he quickly pressed a button on the console to the side of the door and it slid open towards the sides. Patiently waiting outside of his door was one of the Ghostmen, a powerful sub-faction among the mercenaries aboard the _Chillwind_ led by Devon Laques who all dressed in large flak coats, wore dark goggles, kept their heads shaved and were rather competent as silent assassins. The Dark Eldar Captain found them useful in keeping an ear out for mutiny among either the members of the warband or among the many thralls aboard the ship.

'Multiple ships detected my lord' reported the Ghostman whose name Naranair was not quite sure of for most of their members not only dressed the same, but they all talked alike and adopted postures or body language which made them all seem too similar.

'And are they hostile?' asked the Dark Eldar Captain with some suspicion for there was always the chance that they might encounter pirates or fleets of alien warships in any given part of the Great Wheel.

'No my lord' replied the Ghostman 'the ships have hailed us and are asking for your presence.'

'I will be at the bridge right away' nodded the Captain who then dismissed the human before closing the door.

Turning his attention back to the still dangling lump of living meat within his quarters, he quickly decided to finish the thing off with a small but deadly dose of poison.

* * *

Underneath the bright sun of Aaru, Scout Sergeant Andros Maithen watched the day's training with great pride as his arms were folded in front of his chest. At the edge of a one town which had been constructed by liberated press-gang slaves; a firing range had been constructed where a group of militia forces practicing their marksmanship. The air was filled with the staccato of fire as las and auto weapons were unloaded upon wooden dummies which had been painted green and carved with crude and comically poor, ork faces.

Despite having served his Chapter for more than a century and training dozens of Scouts who have gone on to become fully fledged Battle Brothers, he had to admit that there was a sense of satisfaction in seeing these militiamen grow. It was not long ago that the men and women who were now firing at the dummies could hardly even hit the broadside of a parked Land Raider, yet now he was confident that they could put down a charging greenskin with reasonable accuracy. It was a necessity really that these people learn how to fight for galaxy was a place that is dark and full of terror.

Were the planet invaded by an enemy force, the people would prove to be easy prey if they did not know how to properly fend for themselves. On many occasions during his time as a Space Marine, he had seen local militias or Planetary Defense Forces on other worlds use tactics and methods which were woefully backwards or were simply just wrong when used against an alien foe. If only the PDF forces across the Imperium had taken their training more seriously, then perhaps there would not be the constant need for the various Chapters of Astartes or the Regiments of the Imperial Guard to travel across the galaxy to defend worlds.

It was also important for the Chapter that these people learn how to fight for ever since the campaign on Dolgran, they had yet to fully recover from their losses. It was by order of the Chapter Master that regiments of auxiliary troops, composed entirely of volunteers, would be trained by the Battle Brothers. It was not something which Andros entirely agreed with, but it orders were orders and he, along with many other Astartes could now be found overseeing the training of the militia companies.

As the training progressed with a fairly consistent rate of satisfactory performance, he raised his right hand and made a series of hand gestures. The militia who saw him immediately ceased their firing and he was satisfied that they remembered the hand gestures which he had also been teaching. The trainees then began to remove the ammunition clips or power cells of their guns, the latter of which would be laid out in the sun so that it could recharge.

The soft patter of feet stepping upon grass was heard from behind the Scout Sergeant and he glanced back to see a young lad holding a ceramic jar. The boy was freckle faced, sandy haired youth dressed in a fur tunic made from the hide of local wildlife which both the Space Marines themselves and former slaves hunted. The boy was part of a fresh generation of children who had never known what life was truly like within the Imperium for all they knew were stories which their parents had told them.

'Hello Brann' greeted the Scout Sergeant with a slight smile and a friendly tone.

'Hey sarge' replied the boy who pressed the jar tightly to his chest with one hand while giving an exaggerated military salute.

'What is that you have there?' asked the Scout Sergeant who looked towards the jar.

'My ma made this, she wanted you to have it' replied the boy with a smile as he offered the jar to the Sergeant.

'Tell her I said thanks' nodded the Scout Sergeant who gently took the container and he quickly noted that there was something inside, most likely some preserved food items.

'Someday when I grow up, I will be a Space Marine too!' announced the lad and the Scout Sergeant could not help but grin.

'And I will be sure to train you into becoming the best one there is' replied Andros Maithen.

'Promise?' asked the lad with big, hopeful eyes as he then held his little right hand with the little finger.

'Aye, promise' grinned the Scout Sergeant in amusement as he sealed the childish pact with his own left hand little finger.

* * *

Having taken a quick shower and putting on his xeno-hide clothing again, Naranair now stood upon the Command Bridge of the _Chillwind_ where several holo-screens crackled to life. From the viewports at the front of the Bridge, he could see dozens of ships which had gathered, each one he knew quite well were crewed by ruthless killers, pirates and mercenaries who sold their services to the highest bidder. With the army that was gathered here, they could take over a small system if they wanted to (and actually have in the past).

'Communications link established' announced one of the mercenaries and the Dark Eldar Captain gave a slight nod to the human.

Upon the holo-screens, the faces of five beings came into view and the Dark Eldar Captain gave cruel smile in greeting. One face belonged to that of a red haired human female who wore one of those hats so favoured by human pirates, complete with the skull and crossed bones while a red lens mechanical monocle was placed over her right eye. Then there was the massive, brutish, dark skinned face of an Ork Freebooter who also dressed in a similar manner as the first one.

Of the last three faces, one could not be seen due to a dark hood worn over the being's and Naranair knew well enough that what lay beneath was something far more dangerous than a mere _Mon'keigh_. The fourth figure was a grinning, pale skinned human female with an elaborate hairstyle which looked like one giant white bun. Like the hooded one, Naranair was deeply aware that this woman was also not human, but a being who simply masqueraded as one for the sake of convenience.

The last figure wore an ivory mask which was somewhat similar to the ones worn by the Harlequin but was of a crude, human make. Burning witch lights could be seen behind the eye-holes of the mask and among the entire gathering, this was one being of whom even Naranair would be wise to be careful around.

'I am so glad that you can all make it, and I applaud your punctuality' theatrically announced the Dark Eldar Captain 'now then, lets get down to business...'


	4. Chapter 3

'So, dat runty umie Metzger wontz uz ta get sumfing o iz bak, ey?' spoke the deep, guttural and brutish voice of Freebooter Kaptain Bashnag Starkilla in Imperial Gothic over the holo-screen who was the only one among the gathering who had more than one ship and had in fact brought eight, heavily armed ork cruisers.

'Indeed and it has been claimed by some renegade Chapter of Space Marines who call themselves the Aquila Veritas' confirmed Naranair as he still stood upon the Command Bridge of the _Chillwind_.

'These… Astartes are known to us' came the repulsive, gurgling voice of hooded figure known as the Intendant Intemperance, the "secret" leader of a Privateer ship, The _Grey Wyrm_ which was employed by the Calixis-based Amaranthine Syndicate. 'A number of ships belonging to the Syndicate have been boarded by these Space Marines and much profits have been lost' continued vile creature whose body would look like a mass of writhing worms, were it not for the Shroud Armour which it wore.

'The incursions of these Astartes rapscallions have been most detrimental to my own operations' commented the calm, professional voice of the red haired human female, Captain Lucretia Tarneth of the _Void Duchess_.

'Powerful are these bringers of truth for still they bear the mark of the Corpse Lord' cryptically rasped the muffled voice of Sora-Vell, the masked leader of the Pale Throng warband which had joined the gathering aboard the _Retribution of Tranch_.

'Bah! Dem Marine boyz aint so tuff' interjected Bashnag with derision and he boasted 'Iz kill plenty of dem big umiez in me time!'

'Ah but one can never truly tell when it comes to the Astartes' coolly added the sultry shape shifter, Countess Elizabeth von Karsen who was aboard the _Vashanesh_ 'they have a tendency to be unusually fortunate at times'.

'And that is why I have gathered you all here, to ensure that these Space Marines meet with overwhelming force' interjected Naranair who immediately claimed the attentions of his allies. 'I have deemed the payment for this contract to be sufficient and I assume that since you are all here, you all consider the rewards of this task worthy of your time as well.'

'The Syndicate considers the payment adequate and will appreciate the removal of these Astartes' gurgled Intendant Intemperance.

'If we are all in agreement with this contract then I shall pledge my crew to this endeavor' said Captain Tarneth.

'Iz definitely in' announced Kaptain Starkilla 'me boyz and I just ad a good scrap wiv em Rak'gol krittaz, Space Marinez is gunna be a gud unz too!'

'The Throng will join for the Thrones are sorely needed' whispered Sora-Vehl.

'And my army will stand with you all!' eagerly said Lady von Karsen who gave a slight smile while exposing her sharp fangs.

'Most excellent' replied Naranair with with satsifaction. 'Metzger's pet psykers have already predicted when the next raid shall be so we should be off to greet these Space Marines in kind.'

Placing his hands upon the terminal next to him, the Dark Eldar Captain then began to press several buttons, which would transmit the coordinates given to him by the Rogue Trader. After a moment, the other leaders confirmed having received the messages and soon every ship within the pirate fleet were turning about to face the right direction. Each of the ships then began activating their Warp Engines and soon several screaming portals into the Immaterium were opened.

'Race ya gitz to da otha side!' roared Kaptain Starkilla who then cut the communications feed before the others did as well.

As the _Chillwind_ entered the Warp again, Naranair Wrathbringer could not help but smile in anticipation for this next mission.

* * *

 _Six terran weeks later…_

'Launch all Transports' commanded Brother Captain Asher Mordent of the Aquila Veritas Fourth Company.

'Launching transports' complied the calm voice a servitor slaved to a terminal and the cybernetic thrall hit a large red button which gave the signal.

From the hangars of the Strike Cruiser _Invictus_ , several Caestus Assault Rams and Thunderhawks were launched into the cold void of space where their prey awaited them. From the viewport of the _Invictus_ 's Command Bridge, the Brother Captain saw the damaged cargo ship which bore on its hull the insignia of the Departmento Munitorum. Explosions of fire blossomed across the void between the Strike Cruiser and the poorly and defended cargo ship which launched flights of fighter craft which were outmatched in terms of armaments and skill by those of the Aquila Veritas.

The Brother Captain had given the crew of the cargo ship a chance to surrender whatever it was they were carrying along with every press-gang slave aboard and in return, they would be left with enough food and fuel to make it back to the nearest start port. In response, the cargo ship captain had bravely yet futilely and rather foolishly, refused the terms of the Brother Captain, claiming that the goods they were delivering were desperately needed by Imperial Guard forces near the Cadian Sector. It was a difficult choice for the Brother Captain but he knew that there were people in his Chapter and those who depended on them to make a good haul.

The battle in space was both short and one sided in favor of the Aquila Veritas and after a few minutes, Vox reports began coming in that the Caestus Assault Rams which transported Astartes and Thunder Hawks which carried Auxiliary troops had successfully boarded the cargo ship. That was it, thought the Brother Captain who leaned back on his Command Throne for he doubted that mere armsmen would be able to stand up to the might of an Astartes. As loyal as he was to his Chapter and to the Truth which they had discovered, it weighed heavily upon his heart that he who once led campaigns across the galaxy against the alien, the mutant and the heretic, he who has slain daemons and monstrous horrors, was now reduced to fighting the security forces aboard merchant ships.

It had been a trying time for the Brother Captain who knew that he was not alone in his feelings for there were many within the Chapter who secretly harbored doubts about their change in allegiance. He then reminded himself of the recordings they had seen, of the message which the Emperor had left for humanity. It was his duty as a Space Marine to uphold what the Emperor himself had believed in and to reveal to the rest of mankind the Truth.

He brooded upon these thoughts for several minutes while only half heartedly listening to the vox reports from inside the cargo ship as the assault teams quickly made progress. His thoughts would later be interrupted as he heard the voice of one of the Chapter Serfs calling his name in an alarmed tone and the Brother Captain quickly turned his attention to the man who operated one of the consoles.

'What is it?' asked the Brother Captain who then began to have an itch on his palms beneath his gauntlets.

'Multiple warp-space signatures my lord!' exclaimed the Serf.

'It's a trap!' roared the Brother Captain who quickly shot up from his throne while thinking it was an Imperial force and he commanded 'activate the scanners and identify what we are up against!'

'Aye, aye sir!' replied another Serf who then began directing power to the Strike Cruisers scanning equipment.

A holo-screen attached to several cables and wires descended from the ceiling of the Command Bridge and it displayed the status of the _Invictus_ which was unharmed from the brief skirmish thanks in small part to its void shields. As the scanners worked their tech-magic, it then revealed something which caused the Brother Captain's eyes to widen in surprise. Several ships highlighted in red appeared in real space, far behind the _Invictus_ and after a moment, they began picking up speed towards the Strike Cruiser.

The scanners then did another sweep which only took a second to reveal what kind of ships they were facing and soon the red ships on the holo-screen were transformed to display the distinctly crude and ramshackle profiles of greenskin space-crafts. Eight large Ork Cruisers were now accelerating to attack speed and behind them were five other ships which were not firing upon nor were being attacked by the aliens and as such, must be in league with the barbarous xenos or were operated by them. Regardless, he knew that there would be no negotiating with the beasts for the Ork only understood strength and violence and they would no doubt attack the Invictus.

A critical moment passed for the Brother Captain as he considered his options for the sheer number of enemy ships made fighting in space to be highly inadvisable. He could have the _Invictus_ stay and try to hold off the attack until the Marines and Auxiliary forces which were still inside the cargo ship had time to get back to the Thunderhawks and Caestus Assault Boats. He also had the option of having the Strike Cruiser move out and prepare for a Warp Jump but that would mean abandoning half a company to the aliens with no hope for escape.

As a Space Marine, his choice was already made and he ordered for the _Invictus_ to turn about and bring its guns to bear upon the alien ships. Although he and his Brothers had abandoned the Imperium, they could never abandon one another for in this dark galaxy, only by being united do they stand a chance of survival. Sending word to the boarding teams to make their way back to their dropships, Captain Asher Mordent was prepared to give his life so that those under him would have a chance to make it back to the Strike Cruiser.

* * *

'Raise high da Jolly Ork!' commanded Kaptain Bashnag as he pumped his metallic cybork hand to the air and in response the Orks of his crew gave out a loud "WAAAAGGGHHH!"

At the Squigeon's nest of his ship _Da Wurld Krumpa_ , a large square blackened sheet of thin metal which was magnetically attached to a sturdy pole above da Kommand Bridge. Not far from behind the Kaptain's throne, a group of gretchin pushed a series of metal spokes which connected to the pole above and by their efforts (with a bit of assistance from a Runthurd with a grot-prod), the black sheet metal which had the ork skull and crossbones symbol of the Jolly Ork was raised high and the other ships repeated the action.

'Right boyz! Time ta earn our keep!' shouted the Freetbooter Kaptain as the ships of his fleet accelerated with all guns being powered up. 'Activate da shields!' commanded the Kaptain and a thrum of energy was heard as each ship in his fleet was soon covered in an electrical bubble.

Just in time thought the Kaptain as the ship of the Marine Boyz turned its broadside to them and it began to open fire with a volley of lasers, missiles and plasma bolts. In response, the Ork ships fired back with torpedoes and kannonz which fired either solid exploding dakka or zzapas which swam through the void of space while the ships continued their collision course. _Da Wurld Krumpa_ rocked under the barrage of umie fire but the shields still held and as thee ships drew ever closer, the Kaptain began to feel the rise of his bloodlust.

'Get ready ta board maytiz!' bellowed the Kaptain who sucked in his breath and shouted a battle cry that was followed by his fellow greenskins.

WAAAAGGGHHH!

* * *

Keeping a fair distance from the Ork ships which were engaging the Astartes Strike Cruiser, the ships of the _Chillwind_ , the _Void Duchess_ , the _Vashanesh_ , the _Retribution of Tranch_ and the _Grey Wyrm_ , were positioning themselves to flank the Astartes ship and try to cut off any chance of escape. Of the five non-ork ships, the _Retribution_ was the smallest weakest and most ramshackle for it belonged to a class of ships most often associated with pirate wolf packs and its crew was hardly the most skilled of mechanics. This was followed by the _Grey Wyrm_ which was a much larger, better armed, armoured and better maintained vessel for the Amaranthine Syndicate were a powerful and wealthy group within the Calixis Sector.

The _Vashanesh_ was comparable in size to the _Grey Wyrm_ but was significantly less well maintained with many sections of the ships having no life support, which would not really bother most of its "crew". Then came the _Chillwind_ which from what Naranair knew, had once been a type of Mon'keigh ship designated as a "Tempest". Of course, the ship had been heavily modified by the loathsome little Stryxis even before the Dark Eldar Captain had found it so classifying it may be a bit harder and from what he knew of their detestable language, they had called it a _Xebec_.

Finally, this left the _Void Duchess_ which was the largest and most heavily armed and armoured of the non-ork ships. Its size was comparable to the ships often used by the Imperium's Navy but its true strength lay within the various pieces of alien technology which had been incorporated into the vessel. The _Void Duchess_ was a type of ship which many human Rogue Traders would consider highly prestigious to have, no doubt that it was gift from Captain Lucretia's benefactors, the Crescent Wings Corsairs, a group of mostly Craftworlders which Naranair was rather intimately familiar with.

The five ships were able to avoid the initial exchange of fire from the Astartes Strike Cruiser towards the Ork ships and as they circled around them, they knew that surrounding the Space Marine vessel would become unnecessary for the greenskins would accomplish it themselves. There was the strong possibility of course that the brutish greenskins could get carried away with the fighting and would end up destroying the very vessel which they needed to capture so that they could find out wherever it was that these renegade Space Marines were hiding. Unwilling to allow this contract to become a failure because the greenskins could not control themselves, Naranair ordered for the _Chillwind_ to engage.

'Have my Heavy Wargear fetched and the _Draichs_ prepared for battle' commanded the Dark Eldar Captain who rose from his command throne and his thralls obeyed.

* * *

The cargo ship trembled as the battle out in space continued and the boarding teams rushed back to their dropships and assault boats in an orderly manner. The Astartes and their mortal auxiliaries made sure that one was left behind and they had even taken as many members of the ships crew as they could for despite having just been trying to kill each other, their common humanity was what united them when word of alien raiders came. Among those who had boarded was Brother Jaime Vellock whose power armour and chainsword was stained with human blood and he left his head bare so that those men around him could recognize the Space Marine.

'We are almost there men, keep going!' shouted Vellock as they took a turn to left which would lead to one of the hangars where the Thunderhawks had landed.

Desperation lent them speed for they had already been informed that several Ork ships were surrounding the Invictus and cargo ship with each one sending out several assault ships and dropships of their own. The cargo ship suddenly rocked again as something very large struck against the hull and there was the sound of metal screeching. The ship was now being boarded he and he knew full well that if they did not get out as quickly as possible, the orks would likely overwhelm them.

Ordering the men around him to double-time it, they began sprinting even faster until finally they made it to the hangar but when they got there, the Space Marine's heart sank. Crude ork dropships flew into the hangar with several crashing into the Thunderhawks from behind and causing them to be violently pushed forward or sent flying.

'Watch out!' roared one of the auxiliaries as men desperately scrambled to get away from the errant pieces which ended up crushing more than a few auxiliaries and crewmen, reducing them to red paste.

Another series of several crashes and the screeches of metal was heard as the dropship parts struck against the walls and Brother Vellock was forced to leap to his right to avoid being hit by a spinning piece of a Thunderhawk wing. He hit the floor with a loud thud as his power armour along with his own enhanced physique, gave him a great deal of weight and as he quickly recovered he began to smell that familiar stench of sweat, dung and xeno spores. Looking to where the alien dropships had landed, each of the vessels began to disgorge large mobs of greenskins which either came in the larger or smaller varieties of ork.

'Regroup men! Regroup!' shouted the Space Marine while the auxiliaries around him were still recovering from evading the ship parts but his fellow Astartes were quick to form up into a squadron with each member revving his chainsword or activating a power weapon.

'For the Emperor!' roared Tactical Brother Tancred who raised a glowing power sword to the air and fired a trio of bolter rounds which felled three orks. Bringing up his own bolt pistol, Jaime Vellock and the other Space Marines opened fire upon the aliens with bolter and plasma pistols before charging towards the greenskins.

Each of the Marines now knew that there was no escape and that all they could do was to make sure that the aliens pay dearly for every Astartes life that would be lost this day.

* * *

Back within the personal quarters of the Dark Eldar Captain, Naranair who was now dressed in a skin-tight body-suit, extended his arms widely to the sides and felt the weight of the armoured plates which were clasped around his form. Each piece of the armoured set was primarily the colour of shining black iron with trims of burnished gold and like many other suits created by his people, it was adorned with sharp spikes of polished grey. Each piece of the armoured set was carried by the hands of a female member of his warband who wore simple gauntlets of light metal for protection.

The Dark Eldar Captain's armour was modified from the older variants of Incubi Warsuits with this one in particular having a Phantasm Grenade Launcher attached to the back. Upon the gauntlets of his armour were two modified wrist-mounted Terrorfex Grenade Launchers with one on each limb and were also capable of firing either Haywire or Plasma Grenades for the usual Xenospam Grenades were rather hard to come by in recent passes, a shame really. Finally then came the white-skull masked Tormenter Helmet with red eye-lenses and decorated with finely painted crimson serpents, like the rest of his armour, this one was primarily modified by having the head mounted Splinter Pistol replaced with a Blaster Pistol.

'You should allow us to accompany you my lord' spoke the familiar voice of the human, Vandal Saaris, leader of the Regulators who attentively stood nearby with a Hotshot Laser Gun in his hands.

'Your concern is noted but unnecessary' calmly replied Naranair as one of the female attendants placed the Tormenter Helmet over his head and after a soft click, he saw the visors of the helmet light up and sharp _Druhir_ runes appeared at the bottom, signifying that that neural interface had properly booted up.

'But my lord, we have no intel on what you may find on that Strike Cruiser' insisted the human who was likely more concerned about the anarchy that would likely break out if the Captain were to somehow end up meeting an unfortunate accident.

'May I remind you that those ships are now filled with Space Marines and raging greenskins who are battling one another to the death?' answered Naranair in a non-chalant manner and there was a moment of silence which passed as the man understood the captain's meaning for when Orks had their blood up, it was difficult to stop them from fighting without having to resort to extreme violence.

Of course Naranair saw nothing wrong with killing greenskins and rather, he enjoyed having them as a foe but in their current situation, it would simply be wasteful to engage in pointless combat. One of the female mercenaries, Jacqui then came up to him with an exquisite crystalline amulet held in her hands. Gently taking the piece of jewelry which was in actuality, a Shadowfield generator, Naranair placed it around his neck but left it inactive for now.

The female retainer gave him a pouting look, like a child who had been denied a chance to engage in some form of mischief and Naranair gave an amused grin from underneath his skull masked helmet. He then placed gauntleted hand upon her dyed hair and said 'I promise that I will bring back something for you and your friends to play with'.

The human female then gave him a smile and the Captain turned away from her to see the weapons which had been brought to him. Several guns placed upon simple anti-gravity carts were arrayed around him in a crescent pattern. Like many Dark Eldar of his social strata, Naranair preferred to engage his enemies not with blades but with overwhelming firepower.

The choices were many for Naranair owned at least one of every ranged weapon commonly used by Kabalite infantry and he even owned a few which were more suited in the hands of an Archon. Considering that he was going up against Astartes, their servants and possibly rampaging Orks, he was quick to pick up the humble Splinter Cannon. Anti-gravity pods placed at the bottom of the weapon allowed it be carried quite easily and the Captain grabbed as series of crystallized poison shards which contained a powerful paralytic which also caused intense agony.

From his arsenal, he also took a bandolier of various grenades; two pyramid-shaped Webway portal devices and last but not least, a Soul-Trap which came in the form of a crystalline orb. As he finished arming himself for battle, he heard the doors to his chamber open and a figure in red robes walked into his personal chambers with steps which were difficult to hear, even for one with heightened senses such as he.

'Magos Najeda' nodded Naranair with a hint of familiarity and even a bit of respect towards the renegade Tech Priestess Genator who had served him long before his acquisition of this warband and was now the chief medical officer of the ship and was also involved in… "other projects".

'My lord Wrathbringer' bowed the Magos who had this deep, husky voice which the Dark Eldar Captain found… intriguing. 'The _Draichs_ have been prepared, at your request and they await your command.'

'Most excellent and have the Drug Inductors been properly stocked?' replied Naranair who already knew what the answer would be but was always pleased by the efficiency of this particular thrall.

'Yes my lord' obeyed Najeda who gestured toward a quintet of hulking figures that stood ready 'at your command, they can have cocktails of Onslaught, Reflex and Psychon flowing within their veins in a moments notice'.

Each of the five figures were massive, muscular and misshapen things which were even bigger and broader than the Ogryn sub-breed of humanity. Every one of the things had once been a human captive, taken from their battles close to the Screaming Vortex and now their bodies which had once borne many Chaotic mutations were further swollen by macrosteroids, growth elixirs and other alchemical agents which the Magos had learned from long years of study under the Haemonculus of Naranair's Kabal. All of the _Draichs_ had multiple muscular arms which ended in meaty fists that grasped heavy cleavers, hook, sickles, axes, maces and other deadly close combat implements while their slack jawed faces were concealed behind sinister black iron helmets and the rest of their bodies were protected by metal plates which hooked into their flesh like the armour of common Kaballite warriors.

Pulling up one of the Webway devices and giving it a mental command, it was time for him to make his move…

* * *

Klaxons blared across the corridors of the _Invictus_ as hordes of greenskins flooded its interior. The Chapter Serfs who had been stationed aboard the Strike Cruiser were quick to respond by making their way to the nearest store rooms and grabbing whatever guns they could find. Many were armed with lasguns, autoguns and shotguns but a few were able to get heavier weapons such as flamers and grenade launchers.

As valiantly as the Serfs who had support from the servitors and a few auxillaries fought, they were unable to withstand the hordes of alien pirates without assistance from the Space Marines who mostly were still aboard the cargo ship and scattered about while fighting their own desperate battles. The only Astartes who was aboard the _Invictus_ was Brother Captain Mordent who took up a double-bladed Power Axe and a Plasma Pistol. He strode through the metal corridor in a purposeful manner which gave him an air of authority and strength which in turn, raised the moral of the Serfs accompanying him.

Despite the calm, outward appearance of the Brother Captain, inside he felt a great deal of turmoil due to the current situation. He had always expected that the Imperium would eventually send the Imperial Navy, the Inquisition or another Chapter to deal with their secession. Yet this was a different and all together a more sobering fate, to be in the middle of raiding a civilian ship and then ambushed by some random Ork fleet, of all the foul xenos in this galaxy, some rabble of greenskins it seemed would finally be the death of him.

Tightly gripping the handles of his axe and pistol, he stopped and waited for a moment to allow a pair of thick metal double doors to slide open and he heard a loud explosion from across his position. There was another corridor ahead of the Brother Captain which at the end was covered by a slight fog of black smoke. From that fog, several orks began sprinting through the blasted doorway with crude guns firing and primitive blades held high.

Thumbing the activation key of his Power Axe, it began to coruscate with a bright blue energy field and he lifted his pistol towards the alien horde. Pressing onto the firing trigger and leaving his finger there so that the weapon could charge up he then quietly spoke with grim acceptance in his voice. 'For the Emperor'.

A geat bolt of plasma was fired from the barrel of the pistol and it slammed into the face of the lead ork among the horde. The shot reduced the head of the alien into ashes before exploding into a small star which vaporized the rest of those greenskins who had been at the front of the horde. The rest of course had charged on with bloodlust driving them on and the Brother Captain was prepared to meet them, face to face.

* * *

A bright flash of orange light momentarily blinded Kaptain Starkilla and his honour guard as they re-entered the material universe. Having just used a teleporter device which had been installed into _Da Wurld Krumpa_ , he had as always; found the journey to be more than a bit disorienting. Already, he could hear the sound of nearby fighting which sent a fresh dose of adrenaline into his veins and he was forced to momentarily rein in his natural war-like tendencies to survey their surroundings.

Recognition immediately flashed within the Kaptain's mind for he found himself in the hanger of one of those poorly armed, umie cargo ships, not one of a Space Marine ship.

'Dat bloody zoggin grot' muttered Bashnag Starkilla for a group of Gretchin led by Gazlo da GrotMek had been in charge of calibrating the damned teleporter and had sent them to the wrong ship! He decided that he would have to give the runty little pile of squig scat a proper beating later but for now, there were umiez to fight.

He saw that not far from where they had arrived, a group of Marine Boyz in grey and gold were standing together in a tight formation with a ring of dead freebooterz around them. There were also several smaller umiez which accompanied the Space Marines and the Kaptain knew that it would be a poor idea to just charge those gitz while engaging the Marines in close combat. It was a good thing that they brought loads of dakka he thought with a grin.

Lifting up his brand new Kustom Snazzgun which were actually three Heavy Bolters welded together, his Nobz and Flash Gitz eagerly brought up their own array of Snazzguns, Kombi-Weapons, Big Shootas, Zzap Guns and Rokkit Launchas.

'Zog em up ladz!' roared the Kaptain and the air was filled with combined chatter of their guns. Explosive shells, solid slugs, energy beams and Rokkits flew towards the group of Space Marines with a measure of actual accuracy thanks to their Gitfindas.

Armoured bodies were cut down by the hail of fire which could have brought down a Carnifex and those few Marines who had not been outright slain by the initial volley were quick to spread out and strafe around the Orks. The Kaptain then turned his attention to the other umiez who fired back at them with small arms weapons and he unloaded a volley of Heavy Bolter rounds while roaring all the way 'WAAAAAAGGGHHH!'


	5. Chapter 4

The roars of brutish alien throats mingled with the chatter of gunfire as Brother Captain Asher Mordent beheaded another enemy boarder. His gilded power armour was now scratched and pitted where xenos blades had connected and the blessed ceramite was now stained with their unclean blood. Despite it all though, he felt more alive now than he had in years.

After so long of raiding cargo ships crewed by mere human merchants, it felt good to some killing that would actual matter. With a backhanded sweep of his power axe, he cleaved an ork's head in twain from its mouth with the upper part sent flying while he brought up his plasma pistol and fired a pair of shots which killed two more. A gretchin futilely attempted to stab his knee, its crude blade snapped upon impact and with contempt, he delivered a powerful kick which connected with its chest, crushing bones and pulping organs before sending it flying like a ball used in recreational sports.

He had already lost count of how many greenskins he had slain but judging by the mass of corpses he had left in the corridor behind him, he would guess that they numbered perhaps more than two dozen. The Brother Captain was glad that his skills had not dulled and he imagined that had he the time to put on a suit of Terminator Armour, he could have easily cleansed the ship with greater efficiency. In a span of less than ten minutes, he had cleared out the corridor of alien life with negligible losses to the Chapter Serfs who had accompanied him.

Glancing back to see make sure that his normal human allies were all right, he was satisfied to see that they were already in the process of reloading their guns and still ready to follow him. The Brother Captain knew that these men were fully aware of their current situation and despite how grim it was, they showed not an ounce of fear, only a grim determination to take down as many of the aliens as they could before death claimed them. The sight of them gave the Space Marine Captain pride and although he would have preferred to have met his death with his Battle Brothers at his side, he was honoured to have these men with him.

There was a sudden, unnatural charge in the air, something which did not feel right and from his experience as a Space Marine, he guessed that something had just teleported within the ship. Knowing well enough that the greenskins were also capable of Deep Striking, he guessed that the aliens must have a teleporter aboard one of their ships.

'Come my friends' announced Asher Mordent to the mortal warriors 'let us show these aliens how free men fight and die! To Death or Glory!'

'Death or Glory!' shouted the Serfs in response and they moved on to meet this new foe.

* * *

Stepping through the Webway Portal and back into the material universe, Naranair felt the lingering air of agony and death within the corridors of the Astartes Strike Cruiser and he found it invigorating. The pain which flowed from the _Draichs_ were enough to make him feel giddy but when one added the collective torment of the slaughtered Mon'keigh and Orks… sufficed to say, it was very pleasing to him. Lifting up his Splinter Cannon, he quickly gave orders for the _Draichs_ to follow him and the flesh things obeyed.

Having fought Space Marines on many occasions in the past, back with his Kabal, Naranair had some familiarity with the layouts of the Strike Cruisers used by the genetically modified human warriors. Taking a moment to survey where he and his party had arrived, he saw that they were in a Mess Hall which quite incidentally, had been left in quite a mess. Crude metal tables and chairs had been flipped over, green and red blood splattered the surroundings and there were corpses everywhere.

The sight of so much fresh bodies made him feel rather annoyed for it would have been perfect if he had brought thralls equipped with soul-catchers so that they could harvest their fleeting spirits. Leaving them to go to whatever afterlife awaited the _Mon'Keigh_ and Orks was like leaving some perfectly good fruit out to spoil. Sadly, he decided that he would just have to content himself with the taste of death and he ordered for the _Draichs_ to head out.

His best bet in finding out the location of wherever these renegade Space Marines made their base was either at the Bridge of the ship where he could find a primitive machine which kept logs of where they travelled or find one of those psyker Navigators which guided _Mon'Keigh_ ships through the Sea of Souls. The latter seemed like a better prospect for the _Draichs_ were equipped with special devices which could sense the Aethyric spoor of psykers and already, one of the flesh things got the scent.

'Hunt!' commanded Naranair to the _Draichs_ and like a well trained pack of Khymerae, they began to bound off in search of prey with bare feet slapping against the metal floor and it was an easy thing for the Dark Eldar to keep up.

The Strike Cruiser continued to rock as explosions from within and without continued and in the distance, he could hear the sound of fighting between humans and greenskins. He was somewhat surprised to find that of the dead which littered the corridors, there seemed to be more Orks than Men and he supposed that the normal human crew which often manned the Space Marine ships were simply well trained. It had been a while since he had fought whatever passed for professional soldiers among humans for the last groups he had fought were mere Chaos cultists and pirates.

Soon, he began to hear the sound of ongoing battle draw nearer and judging by the sound of it, he guessed that the greenskins were on the losing end. Good, thought the Dark Eldar Captain for as amusing as one-sided slaughter was, he always did prefer to fight an enemy that would give him a challenge. Of course, he was not the kind who was inclined to fight fair but it always made things more interesting when the prey could properly fight back.

* * *

Sprinting as quickly as his augmented physique could carry him, Brother Jaime Vellock evaded the hail of devastating Ork fire that slew many of his Battle Brothers. Alien rounds, bright orange lightning bolts and rokkits narrowly missed him while slamming into the walls of the hangar and he knew that he could not keep running forever. He fired back at the heavy ranged greenskins with his bolt pistol but many of the shots went wide for he had not the time to aim properly and the aliens were way out the effective range of his gun.

He tried to ignore the plight of the auxiliaries who were also in the hanger for the mortal soldiers were practically being massacred by the heavy alien guns. Quickly coming up to the east wall of the hangar, he immediately swerved around to avoid slamming face first into the bulkhead while continuing to evade the deadly hail of fire. The Space Marine soon found himself coming up to the wreckage of a Thunderhawk that had been knocked aside by an Ork Dropship and a he thought that it might at least provide a temporary bit of cover.

As he sprinted towards the ruined dropship, he heard the sound of rockets coming towards him along with a loud "WAAAAAGGGGHHHH!"

Glancing up, he saw several Ork Stormboyz flying towards him with primitive pistols blazing and he raised his bolt pistol to fire at them. The gun made a clicking sound which caused the Space Marine to curse for it was out of ammo and since he was still holding his chainsword, he had no free hand which he could use to reload it. The first Stormboy landed not far from behind him and the alien activated its crude jump pack to leap towards the Space Marine who was anticipating such a move.

Before the ork knew it, Brother Vellock spun around to face the alien with his chainsword following and the blade bit deeply into the brute's left arm and further into its chest. The Stormboy roared in pain as adamantine teeth cleaved through flesh, meat and bone before being taken by death. The Space Marine was immediately on the move again for several other Stormboys were closing in fast and the gunners still continued to pour their deadly fire at him.

Continuing to sprint towards the broken Thunderhawk, he managed to get behind the ruined dropship where he was able to focus his attention on the Stormboys. Quickly holstering his bolt pistol and pulling out his combat knife, the Space Marine prepared himself for the coming aliens. One eager Ork armed with an axe leapt towards him with assistance from its rocket jump pack and it raised it right arm up to for an overhead chop while roaring all the way.

Time seemed to slow down for Battle Brother Jaime Vellock who saw his attacker with perfect clarity. He could see the many scars upon the alien's green flesh, he could pick out the many primitive trinkets and fetishes it carried and he saw the mad bloodlust in its red eyes. The Stormboy then brought down its axe towards the unprotected head of the Space Marine who in turn, used the side of his chainsword to slap away the axe by the side of its head and he drove his knife into the left side of the alien's head.

The universe instantly resumed its normal pace as the body of the Stormboy slammed into the deck beside him with the knife tightly lodged into its skull and another was already upon the Space Marine. He stabbed the next Ork in the gut with his chainsword and he revved the blade which tore its organs to shreds before kicking the corpse to another Ork while parrying a crude excuse of a sword and he delivered a backhanded swing of his gauntleted left fist which connected with the mouth of another Stormboy and breaking several of its teeth. Like all Space Marines, Jaime Vellock was taught to use his entire body as a weapon whether it be with sword, foot, fist or teeth, he would fight with everything he had.

His entire world became a frenzy of furious fighting for he surrendered himself to an instinctual level, one that had been born by centuries of war in service to the Emperor. Eventually, things began to calm down as most of the Stormboys now lay around him with bodies hacked up and those that survived were cautiously backing away. Green blood spattered his noble features as he heavily breathed through gritted teeth.

'Is that the best you aliens can muster?' growled the Space Marine who did not care if the Orks understood.

'Nah, theyz aint da best' replied a brutish voice from behind him and Brother Vellock immediately turned around again with chainsword following.

He suddenly felt a suprisingly strong hand grab hold of his right wrist which stopped the momentum of his strike which was followed by an explosion of burning agony into the right side of his waist and he briefly saw the forehead of a massive, dark skinned Ork shooting down towards his face. A sudden loud smack resounded within the hangar where Space Marine was head butted with enough force that would have killed a normal man. Stars exploded in his vision and before he knew it, he felt another heavy impact against the back of his head and consciousness began to slip away from him.

Before the darkness took him he heard the same voice speak. 'Take diz umie git to da _Vashanesh_ , da lady iz gunna wanna ave words wiv im…'

* * *

Following the sound of battle, Naranair along with his _Draichs_ , came upon a chamber with exposed pipes which lined up along the walls of the Strike Cruiser. Multiple greenskins lay dead around a group of humans who remained behind a series of stacked metal crates which created a surprisingly effective makeshift, circular fort. A fierce exchange of fire passed between the two forces with the humans reaping a greater toll while the Orks tried to overwhelm them with sheer numbers but had no usable cover, thus leaving them in the open.

How fortunate it was that the Dark Eldar Captain had the Phantasm Grenade Launcher attached to his back. Using the neural interface of his helmet which was attached to the rest of his armour, along with the back mounted grenade launcher, he mentally plotted the trajectory and after quickly finding the optimal position from where he should fire, he immediately burst into motion. His Shadowfield immediately activated and in a blink of an eye, he was wreathed in a dark miasma of energy which made it difficult for the humans who noticed to hit him while the _Draichs_ lumbered into an aggressive charge.

Four loud sounds that went _thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk_ were heard as he fired a volley of disc shaped grenades which sailed through the air and they exploded among the humans in clouds of psychotropic gas. First there was the sound of coughing as the _Mon'keigh_ accidentally inhaled the fumes, then came the screaming as they began hallucinating things that weren't really there while others began to blindly fire at all around them. Without the concentrated fire from the humans, the _Draichs_ were able to scale the barricades with only minimal injuries and they eagerly began to live up to weapons they were named after.

 _Mon'keigh_ rendered helpless or left mad by the gas were easily felled by single, clinical strikes from the _Draichs_ which were patterned after the Grotesques of the Haemonculi Covens. Unlike the meat-devils used in modern times by the Covens, the _Draichs_ which while somewhat resembling the current types of Grotesques, were actually more akin to the ones of older generations. The _Draichs_ were not as strong, durable, swift or intelligent when compared to contemporary Grotesques but the creatures were more intimidating in appearance, just as inured to pain, better armoured (which was his idea to implement) and most importantly, they were more easily replaced due to the overall cheaper set of modifications, mutagens and the use of easily "acquired" subjects.

The greenskins with their usual belligerence during battle did not see the Dark Eldar Captain as an ally and were quick to shoot at him as well. Having expected this from the brutes, he quickly lifted his Splinter Cannon and opened fired upon them while also launching more disc shaped charges from his Phantasm Grenade Launcher. Unleashing a hail of crystallized poison shards which were just as capable as human bolt weapons in punching through armour, Orks were cut down by the dozens as gas grenades exploded among them, it was fortunate for the beasts that Naranair had loaded his gun with poisons which caused both agony and paralysis rather than the usual ammunition which was supposed to kill something as painfully as possible.

There would probably be a few fatalities here and there of course but as usual with greenskins, there were always more. In any case, the torment caused by the poisons and the sheer number of Orks who felt terror and pain from his barrage of ranged weapons was enough to intoxicate the Dark Eldar. To sup from the misery of so many of the beasts was like drinking a vast quantity of cheap and weak wine which although not the most palatable, was capable of getting one drunk when imbibed in the right quantity (and without the feeling of having too much liquid in one's stomach).

In response, the greenskins fired back at him with their crude guns but thanks to their lack of accuracy along with the combined protection provided by his bladed warsuit and the Shadowfield, he was almost as protected as one of those overly lumbering Astartes in Terminator Armour. The greenskins who were lucky enough to evade the wrath which he brought were sent fleeing back the way they came with more than a few murdering each other in their haste. No big of a loss he hoped for they would need every one of the brutes in the future.

Turning his attention back to the _Draichs_ , he found them to be silently watching him with expressionless faces due to their helmets and awaiting new orders. 'Regroup!' called Naranair and the flesh things obeyed; they clambered over the barricades and began to lurch towards him. A sudden loud _pow_ echoed through the chamber and bright plasma bolt vaporized the lower left arm of a _Draich_ and causing the rest of it to fall off.

'Lord of Murder!' hissed Naranair with surprise as he immediately glanced back to see a single, helmetless Space Marine in gilded armour emerging from another doorway with several armed humans behind him. A leader he realized and he knew that if he could capture this one then it would be all he needed to find out where they hid. 'Slaughter' commanded the Dark Eldar Captain and the chemicals contained within the drug inductors of the _Draichs_ were immediately injected into the bodies of the meat-devils who twitched and spasm for a moment.

The _Draichs_ soon let loose a bestial howl of bloodlust which was mixed with the agony they constantly suffered and they strode towards the normal Mon'keigh with blades at the ready. The creatures were already aware that Naranair had singled out the Space Marine leader and it was he that the Dark Eldar Captain would personally deal with.

* * *

Large, monstrous and mutated things that were even bigger than Ogryn charged across the deck, towards Brother Mordent and the Serfs. Each of the things was a juggernaut with crude armoured plates placed over bare flesh for he could see the thin pale lines between their armour and each of the things had multiple limbs which carried deadly close combat weapons. The creatures somewhat resembled the murder gholams used by the Chaos-aligned Dark Mechanicus and the fact these creatures were here meant that this was no ordinary warband of Orks for the Brother Captain highly doubted that the aliens could learn to use such tainted things.

In the past, the Brother Captain had been in situations where at first it seemed like they were just dealing with something like an Ork invasion but later on, turned out to be something much darker. He had little time to dwell upon it for the surprisingly fast gholams sped past him and began to butcher the Serfs who had followed him. He quickly noted the moving darkness that had accompanied the gholams and there was something about that caused him to evaluate it as his primary target.

A volley of crystalline shards was fired from the darkness and the Space Marine Captain leapt to the side and in an attempt to dodge and he landed in a roll He fired back at it with his plasma pistol but was unable to properly get a bead on the thing which moved incredibly fast. It was then that he began to realize the nature of what he was shooting at and it confirmed his suspicion that this was not just some random horde of Orks. Several shards then slammed into the section of his armour which protected his right thigh and he heard the screech of metal as some of the shards managed to puncture the ceramite plating.

A very painful, burning sensation began to creep into his leg and which began to become unresponsive as it felt like millions of needles were also piercing every nerve. His Oolitic Kidney implant immediately began producing antibodies to counteract the poisons but several more shards began to hit him while the darkness continued to strafe around him. Gritting his teeth and trying to avoid the growing pain and the feeling of paralysis that was intensifying, he brought up his plasma and pistol and tried to get one last shot.

Holding on to the trigger, he charged up the plasma weapon in hopes of trying to catch his attacker in a blast of vaporizing energy and the power cell began to brightly glow while creating a large amount of steam. Despite having learned "The Truth", he hoped and prayed to the Emperor that his weapon would not explode on him. A beam of retina searing, pure black energy lanced out from the darkness and it struck the left arm of the Space Marine Captain along with his charged up plasma pistol.

In less than a second, Brother Captain Asher Mordent, a man who had loyally served the Imperium for hundreds of years against all manners of horrifying foes, was vaporized by the plasma explosion from his gun. Of the Champion who had once bested a Chaos Lord in single combat, who had crushed three Ork Waaaghs and once even slain a Norn Queen while in service to the Deathwatch, was reduced to a charred hand which still held on to his Power Axe.

* * *

'Oh blood of Khaine' hissed Naranair as the Space Marine leader was obliterated by the explosion of his plasma pistol. Things like this was why the Eldar species had long ago developed advanced cooling systems for such weapons because it was just plain embarrassing to be slain by an unexpected weapons malfunction. It truly was a testament to the stupidity of the Mon'keigh that they would use such dangerous technology which even the Dark Eldar would rather prefer to find a safer method of using .

The human soldiers who had accompanied the Space Marine were still being slaughtered by the drug addled _Draichs_ which were now even more frenzied by the potent chemicals in their veins. Reaching for the Soul Trap orb which he had taken, he used its power to capture the soul of the slain Marine leader which he could consume for later. Soon the few remaining humans were sent fleeing from the rampage of the _Draichs_ and Naranair quickly spoke the command words 'Pursue and Purge'.

As the first command suggested, the _Draichs_ began to mercilessly pursue the fleeing humans with each one disemboweling a target which it caught before moving on to another. The second command caused several of their internal cybernetic implants to begin releasing chemical agents within their bodies which would neutralize the combat drugs while also giving them some powerful doses of tranquilizers. Such a thing would take time to work of course and by the time the flesh things even began to slow down, every one of those they pursued were pleasingly left in many, bloody pieces.

'Hunt' commanded Naranair again and the _Draichs_ halted for a moment to initiate their psyker seeking implants. They soon resumed their search of the ship's Navigator while the battle within the ship began to die down.

Corpses of humans and greenskins littered the corridors and more than once, they were forced to fight through both groups. While Naranair himself was currently equipped for eliminating opponents non-lethally the _Draichs_ were unable to do so for killing was their sole purpose. After fighting their way through two groups of greenskin freebooters and one group of humans, they soon found the place where the ship's Navigator was being held.

A massive metal door stood before the Dark Eldar and behind it, he could feel a psychic presence which strangely seemed weak and heavy diluted. There was also a primitive console nearby, a mechanism which was likely used to open the door yet he was unsure if there were any defensive mechanisms it connected. Looking to the bloodied flesh things he commanded them 'Defend' and they obeyed.

Naranair then began to study the door and the surrounding area for a moment to see if there were any possible traps or defenses that may be sprung. The ship then rocked again and he heard a series of muffled cries from behind the door and it sounded like there were several beings inside of it. He quickly then began to weigh his options on whether he should just go ahead in activating the console and considering that there were still Orks running rampant, it may have been for the best.

Quickly moving onto the console, he tapped the buttons which had left in place and he was able to activate the doorway. The metal door slowly slid upwards with hissing air escaping from the interior and inside, he began to feel cautious for his only defense was his weapons and the _Draichs_. He suddenly then began to also feel a strange sensation which made him feel even more ill at ease for there was something else behind the door, aside from the psykers and he lifted his Splinter Cannon up in readiness.

The door opened and he was greeted by a skeletal cyborg that had its arms replaced with twin flame throwers which were both trained on him. Hissing a curse, he immediately opened fire with his Blast Pistol and Splinter Cannon and he vaporized the head of the servitor while riddling its body with shards before it could burn him and he suddenly heard several human voices shout in surprise. Bringing his heavy gun to bear towards the Psykers, he was prepared to make things especially painful for them if they showed any form of resistance.

* * *

Terror, confusion, fear and revulsion flashed through the minds of those around the Watcher who felt the sickening presence of the Soulless One ebb away and in its place was another, darker presence. A flesh voice that was slightly sibilant and accented demanded for the attention of those within the chamber whose physical eyes were immediately turned to him. To those who saw through The Sight, the dark being that stood at the doorway and threatening them with a weapon of great malice, would have appeared as a soul composed of the same darkling energies which lay within his helmet-mounted weapon.

The dark one, the Dragon, shouted for all within the chamber to get down on their knees and place their hands behind their head and cooperate or he would do such grievous bodily harm to them, the sort which would make death itself a mercy. Fear and acquiescence followed as many realized what the Dragon was and some began to pray to the Carrion King for deliverance. The Watcher chose to maintain silence for all would come to pass on its own accord.

If one were to look at the Watcher with eyes of flesh, then one would have seen a figure, dressed in simple, robes of dark brown and red with a hood which concealed much. A gorget of Mesh materials protected the neck of the Watcher which extended up to the jaw and over the mouth beneath the nose. The Watcher quietly knelt in meditation with buttocks resting upon the heels and knees flat upon the floor.

The silence of the Watcher immediately drew the attention of the Dragon who spoke. 'Did you not hear me _Mon'keigh_? I said place your hands upon the back of your head!'

Again, no response was made by the Watcher who remained silent for a moment, thus enraging the Dragon who pointed his gun towards the hooded figure. Quiet words began to escape the lips of the Watcher who quietly announced, 'I know you seek the Eagles of Truth, the wayward Sons of the Emperor'.

'Is that so?' questioned the Dragon with skepticism and suspicion while still holding onto his weapon.

'They reside on the lush world of Aaru, second planet of Kebenit' continued the Watcher in a calm voice.

'And how do you know this?' asked the Dragon who was now more wary.

'Because I have seen much, Naranair Wrathbringer, of the Kabal of the Encarmine Dragon' replied the Watcher. Silence descended upon those within the chamber and the ship shook again with greater force which led to many whimpering with fear. 'It will be wise if we leave now' said the Watcher and already, the Dragon began to activate his alien transportation device.

'Then you shall come with me, human' announced the Dragon before taking a last look to the others.

'Great will be your rewards for the safe return of these ones' added the Watcher and the spark of avarice was lit within the Dragon's heart.

'I see, well it seems we have much to discuss later' said the Dragon who then gave a look to the others within the chamber. 'Any of you who wish to live, your only chance of survival now is with me, otherwise, I hope you can enjoy Orkish hospitality.'

With that, the gathered group of Navigators, Psykers and Astropath were quick to accompany the Dragon and his constructs of pain. The Watcher then stepped into the twisting path of the Ancient and one step closer to those the Watcher sought out.


	6. Chapter 5

Within the main hangar of the _Chillwind_ , a glimmering disc of light suddenly appeared within an open space that was surrounded by dozens of armed men and women who formed a protective cordon in the area. From the disc of light, a gateway into the alien Webway, a familiar dark armoured figure stepped through it while accompanied by the bloodied gholams and to the surprise of the mercenaries, there were also several ragged, robed figures which accompanied their leader.

From the cordon set up by the guns for hire, the Pyrophant eagerly stepped forth with high hopes that there would be sinners to redeem for he had been somewhat disappointed for not having been able to join their Captain in boarding the Renegade Astartes ship.

'Praise the fiery hand of Khaine for your return my lord!' bowed the Pyrophant to the skull masked form of Naranair and other mercenaries, those whose faiths were disturbingly lacking, gave half hearted praises as well to the Burning God.

'Yes, praise Khaine' quietly replied the alien lord who slowly cast his gaze towards the rest of the warband before settling on Vandal Saaris who dutifully stepped forward with his usual professional demeanor.

'Have our guests escorted to the Null Bay' announced the Captain which caused several members of their warband to step forward with guns held at the ready and the alien placed his gauntleted left hand on the shoulder of one of the robed figures.

'Except for this one' the Captain then said 'we have much so very much to discuss…'

* * *

In the starlit void of space, the small fleet of ships watched and waited for the battles to die down aboard the renegade Space Marine strike cruiser and the merchant ship which had both been boarded by the Freebooterz of Kaptain Starkilla. The fighting lasted for another two hours before finally, both ships had fully been taken over by the piratical greenskins who quickly began to plunder what weapons and materials they could. From the merchant ship, an Ork Landa flew out from the hangar with a course set for the _Vashanesh_.

Aboard the Landa, the Space Marine, Battle Brother Jaime Vellock, regained consciousness and he found himself staring down the barrel of an Ork Big Shoota.

'Don't try anyfing funny umie' grunted a Freebooter Shoota Boy in mangled Imperial Gothic. 'Da Kaptain sez youz gotz a date wiv da Lady and it be rude if ya kant makez it' added the alien with a malicious grin.

The Space Marine kept silent while glaring at the foul alien and he tried to move his arms but found that his wrists were bound behind him by heavy chains which proved surprisingly sturdy.

'Trying ta break free eh?' commented the Ork with a mocking tone 'demz chainz iz wut we use ta keep da big Squigs down, kant take any chances wiv ya Marine gitz.'

Continuing to glare at the alien, Brother Vellock was confident that if he could get his wrists in front of him and was given enough time, he could spit out enough acid to corrode the chains and break free. With a soft exhale of breath, he resigned himself into having to quietly bide his time for a chance of escape. He carefully surveyed his surroundings and saw that he was in the interior of an Ork dropship with about eight of the filthy aliens keeping watch over him.

His ears were assailed by the noise of the makeshift alien engine and the grunting chatter of the greenskins as some of them snacked on the small, xeno organisms which often accompanied the Orks wherever they went. These must be no ordinary rabble of alien pirates he thought for he was curious about what they meant by "the Lady". After several minutes of nothing much really happening, he heard one of the crude alien vox-caster devices built into the wall, crackle to life and a brutish voice announced something.

'Ere we are umie!' announced the Shoota Boy from earlier as it moved behind the Space Marine who followed it with his eyes.

He then saw the Ork lift up the butt of its gun while a grin spread over its brutish face. Once more, Battle Brother Vellock knew the bliss of unconsciousness as his alien captors beat him over the head with their guns and he did not feel it when they dragged his armoured body into the cold docking bay of the _Vashanesh_. He did not feel it when the crew of the ship, shambling things that had once been living, breathing humans and mutants, had dragged the Space Marine to their waiting mistress with cold, rotting hands.

By the time he regained consciousness, Jaime Vellock awoke to find himself to be kneeling down in lavish quarters, like that of an Upper Hive Aristocrat. The room itself was dark but he was able to perectly see in the low light environment, thanks to his Occulobe implant. Focusing on his Lyman Ear implant, he listened for any sort of movement or breathing within the quarters and he aside from the soft hum of a ship's engines, he heard the slight shifting of cloth.

'Ah, I see you are awake' came a smooth, sultry, feminine voice which had a strong, aristocratic quality to its sound.

Following the direction of where the sound came from, the Space Marine soon saw a rather regal looking woman dressed in a black and red dress that would not look out of place in the ballroom of an Imperial Governor's palace. The woman looked every inch the member of the Imperium's parasitic, self centered aristocracy with fine features, high cheekbones and lustrous white hair that was set in an impractical, pompadour style. There was also something about this woman which made his skin crawl, something which set his nerves on edge but he could not quite say what.

'I am Lady Elizabeth von Karsen' greeted the noblewoman with a formal curtsy 'and I welcome you to my boudoir aboard my ship, the _Vashanesh_.'

'What do you want, witch?' replied Vellock with barely concealed hostility.

'My, my now that is hardly any proper way to greet a host' chided this Elizabeth von Karsen as if he were some child.

The noblewoman then stepped towards him and she bent down to bring her face closer to his own and he instinctively tried to recoil from her but his now tightly bound limbs prevented him from being able to move away. Thin delicate fingers touched his face in an intimate manner as he looked into her eyes which were deep jade in colour and he could smell her perfume which was strongly akin to cinnamon. For a moment, the Space Marine's mind began to calm down as he looked into the face of this woman of whom he found to be rather lovely and suddenly, it hit him like a power fist.

'Witch!' hissed the Space Marine which elicited a soft, sultry laugh from the woman who attempted to hypnotize him.

'You think I am merely some renegade psyker?' questioned Elizabeth von Karsen with mocking amusement. 'I can tell you, little Astartes that I am so much more than that'.

An intense pressure suddenly exploded within the mind of the Space Marine who felt like his brain was going to explode within his skull. The pain he felt was mixed with a deep chill which spread into his very soul and he managed to defiantly whisper the words 'Do your worst daemon!'

'A daemon?' replied the woman with more amused mockery in her voice. 'You are partially correct but I am no fiend of the Dark Gods' she then said with a cold smile 'now tell me, little Astartes, where are the rest of your Battle Brothers?'

* * *

Seated upon a crude metal stool of _Mon'keigh_ make with a table of similar design in front of him, Naranair whose gauntleted hands were steepled together listened intently to the tale of the psyker he had met aboard the Astartes ship who in turn was seated across him. The blind human was clearly of the female gender and she had introduced herself as Lynareth the Watcher. Superficially, she resembled one of those blind communications psykers which the Imperium called Astropaths but quickly he had had learned that this particular woman was neither affiliated with the enslaved psykers and would be considered as a renegade to the rest of Imperium.

This piqued the interest of the Dark Eldar Captain for in his own travels across the Great Wheel, he had learned that there was more to the galaxy than merely war unending. In the Koronus Expanse for example, he had seen the ruins of lesser alien species which the Eldar had long outlived even before The Fall and he had plundered their secrets for the sake of profit. Such artifacts fetched high prices in the underground Cold Trade markets of the _Mon'keigh_ and there were also more than a few which even commanded a pretty price from the right buyers of his species.

The room they were in was a simple square shaped chamber of polished metal with a single light source above the table and on one side of the space was a glass window of highly reflective material. Behind the window was another room where other members of the Captain's warband could listen in on the conversation, record it and engage defensive countermeasures if need be. Overall though, Naranair was unconcerned about the possibility of any aggressive action from this psyker for the Dark Eldar Captain had brought his own protection.

Still dressed in his heavy warsuit with his Tormenter Helmet placed in front of him, the human in contrast was dressed rather plainly in cream coloured robes with a hood over the head and an eye covering which left only a pale skinned mouth chin and the bottom part of a Mon'keigh nose. He could not tell if the human was one of those heavily mutated sub-breeds, such as those who accompanied Sora-Vehl. With what little flesh he could see, the human psyker seemed anatomically, ordinary by the primitive standards of their species but to Naranair who had seen his fair share of shape shifters and skin-changers, he was unwilling to take any chances.

This human it seemed was seeking something which the renegade Space Marines have in their possession, a puzzle box containing something of great value but what lay within, he could not say for the human was not very forthcoming about it. There was a very strong possibility that whatever it was which the Rogue Trader had lost, it had something to do with this blind pskyer who sought it out. If such turned out true was then it would be of no surprise to Naranair for there were many things which Leonhardt Metzger dealt in, things which even the mightiest of Archons would do well to tread carefully with for anything less would be to court a doom that would easily come to the unwary.

'And that is my tale' finished the blind psyker who called herself, Lynareth the Watcher.

'A most interesting story' commented Naranair rather emotionlessly as he took in the information which the human had given him and he added 'yet that still does not explain everything and more importantly, what you have to gain from all this.'

'You are wise not to trust me, Scion of the Bleeding Court, but know that our goals align' whispered Lynareth who called the Dark Eldar Captain by a title which he had not heard in a long while.

'In my line of work, human, I know when not to ask too many questions and when to be watchful for any treachery' said Naranair who remained unconvinced of this human's truthfulness.

'Your trust is unnecessary' quietly spoke the blind human 'only your word that you will take me to Aaru and assist me in reclaiming that which I seek.'

'You presume much human' coldly responded the Dark Eldar with a slight sneer 'and what is to stop me from reneging upon any agreement?'

'Because I know you now, Naranair Wrathbringer' answered Lynareth whose veiled face was now directed towards him and he could feel the intensity of her psychic gaze. 'I have seen past the blackness of your soul and what I found is an individual who accords himself with a particular form of honour, uncommon to your people.'

'Only unusual to those who have never followed the Path of the Incubi' replied Naranair.

'Then let us forge a pact between us, Scion of the Bleeding Court' announced the human who slowly raised her right hand up with palm facing towards him in the manner which the Craftworlders greeted another from one their world sized ships. 'Assist me in this task and you will be owed a debt which either I or one of my Order will come to repay when you need it most.'

How cryptic thought Naranair who felt a bit apprehensive about this yet at the same time, was rather intrigued by this mysterious human. There had been many a time when the Dark Eldar Captain had undertaken a contract where there was more going on than what meets the eye. He then removed his left gauntlet which he placed upon the table and he slid the bare flesh of his palm upon one of the blades of his armour.

'You have me interested, Lynareth the Watcher' the Dark Eldar Captain then said 'I will agree to a pact but only to one forged in blood.'

'A pact in blood it shall be' replied the psyker who drew a slim dagger from beneath the right sleeve of her robe and she slid the edge across her palm. They pressed their bloodied hands together and the pact was sealed between them…

* * *

At the Command Bridge of the _Chillwind_ , Devon Laques listened to the open communications channel which was linked to the other ships. Data was streamed into the alien-made cogitators of the ship while chained thralls of either various alien species or mutated humans busily worked on their assigned terminals. Whatever method which the Stryxis used to train their slaves had proven to be quite effective in keeping them tame enough to complete their assigned tasks and most seemed not to have any qualms about the change in management.

He maintained a stony gaze while studying one of the few terminals which displayed letters and words which anyone who is literate with Imperial Gothic could read. Vital information was coming in from the _Vashanesh_ , information about the Renegade Astartes, their world, their defenses and what ships they currently possessed. In turn, he had transmitted the information which the captured Navigators and Astropaths had given in exchange for being returned to Imperium… eventually.

They were heading for a system which was further west on the galactic plane, a few light years from the Segmentum Borders between Obscurus and Pacificus. According to streaming data, the Space Marines were based on a formerly uninhabited world that had multiple biomes across the surface. He had also learned that the renegade Space Marines had been liberating press gang slave from the ships they had been raiding, slaves who now were loyal to Astartes and would give their lives for them.

Calculations for a Warp Jump were already being made by the xeno thralls as they set course for wherever it was where the Space Marines had set up their base of operations. Despite having faced Chaos Marines from the Screaming Vortex in past, Devon still justifiably felt more than a little anxious for the coming battle. Whether followers of the Ruinous Powers or still loyal to that rotting corpse, the Astartes were very difficult foes for a good reason.

Back when he and many members of their warband had still been conscripted to the Penal Legions, they had witnessed the Angels of Death unleash havoc upon the Greenskins and it was something none of them would forget. Against an enemy like a Space Marine, mere laser, auto, stub and shotguns were high ineffective and the best way to deal with the mighty, genetically enhanced warriors was to either use some very powerful weaponry or rely on sheer cunning. Subtlety was at times the best weapon to wield against the Emperor's Chosen and it was something which Devon Laques and his Ghostmen were well trained for.

Things such as tripwires, mines, and other forms of explosive traps either conventional or non-conventional were very useful when properly set up. Ambushes and sniper attacks were also effective when the right weapons were used for in his experience, Astartes tended to prefer straightforward methods. As ever though, there was no such thing as a full proof plan when dealing with Space Marines who could be highly unpredictable at times.

Plans would be made for what course of action they would take but in Devon's experience of working with his master's colleagues, he had a fair idea on what their strategy would be. In the past for example, they had taken a contract from a Rogue Trader Dynasty to "persuade" one of its competitors to sell its mining rights to a world that was rich in promethium. What had followed was relatively short campaign where the hired fleets of mercenaries had worked together in concert to eliminate all opposition while leaving as much of the industrial infrastructure as intact as possible.

For weeks they had clashed with other mercenary companies and Planetary Defense Forces with the crews of the _Chillwind_ , _Retribution of Tranch_ , _Vashanesh,_ and the _Grey Wyrm_ fighting across the surface of a world covered in dry wastelands. The fleets Kaptain Starkilla and the _Void Duchess_ both played a vital role in ensuring orbital and aerial superiority during the campaign and had been the major reason as of why it lasted so briefly.

Devon then heard the soft clatter of footsteps from behind and he glanced back to see the Captain entering the Command Bridge with the Astropath he had earlier taken and freely following him.

'Are we ready to leave?' questioned the alien lord in his typical manner which was a mixture of being imperious and non-chalant.

'In a few moments my lord' replied Devon who obediently bowed to the Dark Eldar and those thralls who were not too busy were also quick to do the same. 'Our cohorts are sending us information regarding the world called Aaru and the Orks are still busy pillaging the ships.'

'Inform me when they are ready for only together can we succeed in this contract' announced the Captain.

'As you wish my lord' obeyed the leader of the Ghostmen and the alien captain exited the ship with the Astropath still following him.

Like many who had been born and raised in the Imperium, Devon had been taught to abhor the alien, the mutant and the heretic. To someone who had come from the deep pits of an Underhive, you learned to live with the latter two just to survive and it was not much of a stretch to go with the first afterwards. He still would have to keep an eye on this Astropath he thought for considering that the psyker was being allowed to follow the Captain, rather than being locked up in the Null Bay meant that some sort of deal between them had been reached.

It was a good thing that he and a number of his fellow Ghostmen had been entrusted to keep stock a small number of Psyk-out and it would be proactive to have them around, just in case the deal between their Master and this Astropath had turned sour.

* * *

Hours passed as the five ships allowed the Freebooterz to finish pillaging both the Astartes Strike Cruiser and Merchant ship which proved rewarding for the crews of each ship. Of the former, the Greenskins kept whatever weapon and equipment which the renegade Space Marines had carried with them. From the merchant ship, the piratical aliens procured a great deal of military grade equipment which was later distributed to the crews of the other ships.

There had been a fierce debate among the captains of the fleet over whether they had time to retrofit the two captured vessels for their own use. The extra firepower which a Space Marine Strike Cruiser could bring would be a great asset for they had learned that the renegade Astartes possessed a small fleet of other of such ships, less the one they had captured, there was also the other ships which the renegade Space Marines had commandeered and a Battle Barge which would be daunting prospect to fight against. Kaptain Starkilla had boasted that his fleet could take on the Battle Barge and the Strike Cruisers all at once and welcomed for any of the other ships to join the fight when it began.

In end they settled for taking both ships with them while allowing the Freebooterz to make their own modifications. Meanwhile, battle plans were discussed among the Captains who then agreed to rely on their old tactics. Kaptain Starkilla and the Captain Lucretia would be in charge of the space battle and make sure that none tried to escape off-world.

For the forces that would be on the ground, the mutant horde of Sora-Vehl would be the vanguards of their assault for the Pale Throng were notorious for their brutality and savagery. Countess Elizabeth's own warriors would also be among the first to land for the shambling horde which the shapeshifter commanded were also a force devoid of any finesse. This left the warbands of the Naranair and Intendent Intemperance to focus on more precise attacks.

After giving the Freebooterz time to "orky up" the captured ships, the mercenary fleet then set course for the planet of Aaru. Warp Engines aboard each ship were fired up as unnatural rifts into the beyond appeared in the void of space and the fleet entered the Immaterium. Through to use of alien technologies which was outfitted into each of the vessels, they travelled through the Immaterium without need the need of the Imperium's Astronomican and they eventually arrived intact within the system.

As soon as the ships re-entered the material universe, they took the time to get their bearings before splitting up into two groups, both of which had already set course for the planet of Aaru.

* * *

'We have arrived in the system Captain' announced First Mate Cooke of the _Void Duchess_.

'Keep her steady Mr. Cooke' calmly replied Captain Lucretia Tarneth as a slight, confident grin was etched upon her face and all aboard the _Void Duchess_ knew just what their leader was thinking.

Captain Lucretia, or "Red Lucy" as some called her, was a rather imposing woman who as deadly as she was sharply dressed. Wearing an ostentatious Mesh-Weave long coat of crimson dyed leather with fine gilded epaulets, gloves which were also made from an exotic leather which almost reached her elbows, polished black knee high boots, a white silken cravat around her neck. Most symbolically of her attire was her feathered tricorn hat which proudly bore the skull and crossbones insignia which had dated from the ancient times long before Man had reached the stars.

Located close to the Captain was a macabre alien machine which looked to be made entirely of bone, but of what sort of creature it could have originated from, none but the Captain herself knew yet all were aware of exactly who had built the device. Placing a gloved hand upon a console attached to the bone device which was in actuality, a node for a Dark Eldar device known as a Mimic Engine, she activated the machine which caused the power signatures of the _Void Duchess_ to alter and appear as something else.

Eldar Holo machines attached to the Void Duchess also began to work its alien technologies which when combined with the Mimic Engine, allowed the ship to take the form a Space Marine Strike Cruiser, much like the one which had just been captured by the Freebooterz. With the fleet of Kaptain Starkilla remaining way behind _Void Duchess_ , the pirate ship powered on towards the planet which the cogitators aboard the ship had identified as Aaru.

On their approach, the _Void Duchess_ was hailed by an Iconoclast Class Destroyer which had fallen for the ruse. 'Prepare the Warp Disrupter and ready all weapons' commanded Captain Tarneth and the crew rushed to their battle stations.

* * *

' _Ave Imperator, Invictus_ ' announced Brother Sergeant Tollen aboard the bridge of the Iconoclast which had been renamed, _Truth Bringer_.

Giving the _Invictus_ time to respond, he was puzzled by the delay and he wondered if the ship had suffered some damage to its communications capabilities during its most recent raid. As the Strike Cruiser drew closer, he squinted his eyes and tried to get a better look through the viewport and it was then that he realized that something was horribly wrong.

Before the Space Marine and the crew aboard the Iconoclast could say or do anything, a powerful beam of lance of bright energy which sheared through the significantly smaller ship like a power sword through mere flesh. More bright lances of energy struck into the raider ship from the false Strike Cruiser which was in actuality, a heavily modified Ambition Class Cruiser. Before the _Truth Bringer_ could even send out any sort of warning, or distress signal, the ship and everyone aboard it were vaporized into space dust.

Not long after the _Truth Bringer_ 's destruction, a great psychic scream tore through the Warp itself and casting a shadow upon it. All psychic-based long range communications throughout the system would now be heavily hampered by the one of the many alien machines aboard the _Void Duchess_. Knocking out communications was always the first step taken by the pirate fleet, now all that was needed was for everyone to move into proper place before the beginning of their assault.


	7. Chapter 6

Agony coursed through the skull of Amman-Zhar who suffered a sudden severe migraine while resting in his personal quarters. Blood poured from the orifices of the librarian who had the psychic scream which left a shadow in the warp. Wiping away the thin trickle of gore that seeped from his eyes, he looked to the puzzle box and for a moment, he wondered if his tinkering with it had something to do with the psychic phenomenon.

Impossible he decided for surely it must be something else, a Tyranid Splinter Fleet perhaps? No, it could not for he had faced the abominable xenos in the past and the shadows which they left in the Warp were never so sudden. There had been something else that caused it, something which worried the Librarian.

Focusing his will upon the warp, he generated a small ball of fire which ignited above his palm and with a mere thought, he extinguished it. He then attempted send a telepathic message to his brother Librarians and all he got was a heavy, background static. Getting up from cot which he slept upon, he headed towards the vox-panel near the doorway of his room and before he reached it, the machine began to make a beeping sound.

Pressing the activation rune on the panel he heard the mechanical voice of a servitor calling for his presence and the Librarian replied that he was on his way. Giving one last look the puzzle box which had so consumed his spare time, he wondered rather darkly if it had something to do with the appears of the shadow that now blanketed the warp.

* * *

The sensors aboard the Battle Barge, _Flame of Dymlos_ , detected the distress signal sent by the returning Strike Cruiser, _Invictus_. Klaxons blared as legions of Chapter Serfs, liberated press-gang slaves and Servitors rushed to their battle stations for all now knew of the approaching Ork Fleet. Void Shields and the bombardment cannons on the dorsal section of the ship were being powered up as psychic communications were being sent out to all other ships within the system and beyond.

A fleet of several smaller ships, captured during raids on Imperium trade routes or in skirmishes with pirates, accompanied the _Flame of Dymlos_ like shoals of fish around a whale, most of which were still scrambling to get into place. They may have outnumbered the alien fleet but the enemy's ships were far larger than most of what theAquila Veritas currently possessed. It was not lost upon Chapter Master Aurelius Harker, that in some ways, their current situation mirrored that of the greenskins albeit in reverse.

Upon his Command Throne on the Battle Barge's Bridge, the Chapter Master listened to the information being relayed to him. All long range psychic communications were down, making it very difficult for them to get a message to their other Battle Brothers who mostly were still out plundering the space lanes while the few Astartes who remained in the system were mostly training the new militia of the planet. They still had access to mundane Vox-devices but these did not have the range to reach outside of the system and were only useful in maintain communications between the ships of their fleet and their forces on Aaru.

Clad in gilded Artificier armour with a Relic Blade resting close to him, the Chapter Master knew that he cast a sight which was both awe-inspiring and imposing, a beacon of calmness amidst the crew of the Battle Barge. His bare, patrician features were left exposed for all to see while an Iron Halo which was attached to the gorget of his power armour provided a degree of protection which greatly offset his lack of a helmet. Within his mind he ran through countless battle plans and strategies, recalling ancient teachings of wisdom and bitter experience in fighting the green hordes.

Already, the sensors had picked up which of the Ork ships was the largest and knowing the savage xenos, the leader of this Waaagh would be aboard it. They had also detected a smaller number of ships which had broken off from the fleet, ships which would no doubt attempt a flanking maneuver which spoke volumes of this particular Ork leader. It was one thing to fight a greenskin leader who was all brawn and no brain, it was another, all the more dangerous matter to face one they possessed even a modicum of tactical aptitude.

Like a sniper taking aim, they knew that they had only one shot at cutting off the head of this invasion before it truly began. All guns aboard the Battle Barge were being aimed at the largest of the Ork ships which likely was also shielded but the _Flame of Dymlos_ had the sort of arsenal required to crack such defenses. While the Ork ships closed the gap and were getting within range, the _Invictus_ which continued to send its distress signal flew over right over the Battle Barge.

There was something wrong here, thought the Chapter Master they had tried to hail the _Invictus_ but received no reply. Despite the possibility of a damaged communications system, it should still have had some auxiliary mechanisms to allow at the least, short ranged Vox messages. As the _Invictus_ passed over the _Flame of Dymlos_ with only scant miles of void space preventing any physical contact between the two ships, some of the sensors aboard the ship suddenly became active.

'My lord!' called a Chapter Serf 'we are receiving warp signatures within the Teleportarium, the _Invictus_ is sending someone over!'

'Let them in' replied the Chapter Master. 'I want a full status report from Brother Captain Mordent.'

The Serfs obeyed and began tapping away on their terminals, sending a clearance to the operators of the Battle Barge's Teleportarium to allow the _Invictus_ to warp someone in. Patiently waiting for a moment to allow the dangerous teleportation process to complete, he briefly heard a series of gasps and sharp curses before gunfire chattered within the space. Chapter Serfs and Servitors were suddenly being massacred within the Teleportarium, their screams were almost drowned out by the distinct roar of bolter fire.

For a brief moment, the Chapter Master was stunned at the possibility that some of his Battle Brothers may have betrayed them. He always knew that his choice to secede from the Imperium had not been a popular one, even when presented with the Truth which the Emperor himself had sought to spread across the galaxy. Aurelius had his suspicions on who may be harboring treasonous thoughts but had never imagined that anyone would actually dare to act out such betrayal.

'What do we do my lord?' asked a worried Chapter Serf.

'Inform the crew that we must… repel the boarders' spoke the Chapter Master who struggled to say the words for he could hardly believe what was happening.

* * *

Warning klaxons blared within the interior of the Astartes Battle Barge, alerting the crews of the ship to the presence of the boarding party. Now this will be interesting thought Captain Lucretia Tarneth whose weapons and armour were painted with a fresh coating of gore. Looking to the five others of her company who also were all equipped with advanced suits of armour which were further fortified by portable force fields, they nodded, knowing what they should do.

On most occasions, Captain Tarneth would prefer to wear her highly stylish Mesh Woven clothes which had been crafted by the Eldar artisans from Vaul-Anarath, yet she was of course practical enough to know when to put on her armour for dangerous situations like this. The armour which the boarding party wore was a marvel of human engineering for each one was far more advanced than the ones used by Astartes, Adepta Soritas and even the Inquisition. Each suit came equipped with self-repairing, self-sustaining mechanisms with built-in energy sources and potent machine spirits which altered the functions of the suit to fit the wearer.

These advanced suits which were known as Hunting Rigs, were quite popular among the aristocracies of some Imperial Hive Worlds. On such planets, the nobility considered it a rite of passage to don such suits of armour and use them to descend into the anarchic regions of the Underhives and prey upon those who dwelt there, regardless of whether they were gangers or innocents… if such a word even existed in the case of the latter among the dwellers of such lawless places. Lucretia herself had never taken part in such ritualized hunts, largely due to having been branded as a heretic very early in life but overtime, she had grown quite familiar with the Imperium's own depravities and how to best profit from it.

For the Pirate Captain herself, she wore a pattern of Hunting Rig designated as "Matriarch" which was built for speed, finesse and stealth. The Matriarch Rig came equipped with a Chameleon Cloak, a seemingly simple piece of cloth which allowed the wearer to blend in with their surroundings and it made them more difficult to hit. Resting around her neck was a glittering amulet of Eldar-make which was in actuality, a Force Shield, the same sort used by the Autarch war leaders of the alien species.

'Let's move!' ordered Lucretia and her crewmates obeyed without a series of "aye aye, captain"

Having deployed within the Astartes Teleportarium, the Hunting Rig equipped pirates sought to cause as much internal damage as possible before escaping via Teleport Homer. They had also arrived with warp-based jamming device of Jokaero origin which would make sure that that they themselves did not have unexpected guests and they also brought a now primed, Naval Melta Torpedo which had been converted into a bomb and set to detonate within ten minutes. All they needed to do now was defend the bomb and make their daring escape before it engulfs the Teleportarium and other adjacent chambers in a blast of superheated gas.

'Captain, we got movement! head towards us!' called one of her crewmates who was studying a Bio-Scanner.

'Positions gents!' called the Captain and all eyes were turned towards the doorway leading out of the Teleportarium where they could hear the booted feet of the Battle Barge's crew.

The heavy metal door slid open to reveal dozens of men and women dressed in either robes or navy uniforms and all were armed with a wide variety of slug throwers and laser weapons. In a split second, a deadly exchange of fire was traded between the ship's defenders and the invading pirates who mostly carried fore-arm mounted bolt weapons. Lasers and bullets from the ship's defender collided into defensive barriers generated by either Refractor or Conversion Fields, all of which had been taken from Imperial servants such as military officers or Ecclesiarchy priests, the bolt rounds on the other hand punched through light armour and detonated within soft flesh.

Taking the time to deliver a flashy flourish, Captain Lucretia, who wielded twin power blades, one which came in the form of a Colichemarde and the other a Main Gauche, leapt into the fray with blood pumping and adrenaline coursing through her veins. With the skill of a master swordsman, she stabbed, slashed, parried and cut with both of her blades; each step she made was done with a dancer's grace. Having been personally tutored in the art of sword fighting by a certain Corsair Prince, Captain Tarneth became a deadly whirlwind of flashing metal which sent rivulets of blood high into the air.

* * *

Sailing across the void of space, the _Chillwind_ made its way to the planet where the renegade Space Marines had made their base. Wreathed in a cloud-like fog of darkness, the ship's Shadowfield provided a much needed degree of cover for the ship's approach for more than once, they had encountered smaller ships which rushed to join the battle to repel the Freebooter fleet. Thankfully, the ship had no need to give away its position and now that they were closing in with the planet, they saw the other pirate ships move into position.

Having extensively studied the information sent by the _Vashanesh_ , in regards to the planets defenses, the crew of the _Chillwind_ had already chosen where they would make planetfall while the other ships would do likewise in other regions. While attacking the renegade Space Marines as single, unified force did have its advantages, the crews of each ship were aware that if there was one major weakness the gene enhanced warriors had was that they could not quickly replace their losses. It was decided that their best chances of winning would be to hit the enemy, fast and hit them hard from several different fronts.

In the _Chillwind's_ hangars, several transportation shuttles such as the Arvus Lighters and the rarer Halo Barges were being prepped to carry the crews down onto the planet's surface. There were also other cargo transports being prepared, all were vessels capable of travelling through both the void of space and entering a planet's atmosphere. Of the most prize vessels they had were captured Valkyrie Dropships which carried large, sealed cargo containers which were capable of transporting vehicles.

The mercenaries and pirates of their warband did not have the technical knowledge or the training to operate a battle tank but instead, they had cobbled together vehicles which were more fitting of their style. Vehicles such as bikes were the most common with many have attached sidecars that also had guns mounted at the front of the passenger section. Similar light vehicles with either three or four wheels were could also be found, each being capable of carrying one or two people.

Modified ground cars and civilian trucks could be found, many of which had been repurposed in ways that would not have been out of place among an Ork warband. Belching with smoke, bristling with guns, plated with crude armour and spikes, each of the vehicles had also been carefully given paint jobs to represent the faction among the warband which owned them. Take the Ordo Ignis for example who decorated their vehicles with symbols of blood, fire and people burning at stakes while all being appropriately armed with flamers and melta weapons.

Other groups like the deranged, combat drug addicted, all-female Psycho Sirens who favoured getting in up close and personal with Chain Weapons were rather fond of painting their vehicles with patterns depicting the teeth of predatory beasts to symbolized the cutting blades of a chainsword. The Ghostmen and the Regulators were far more practical in their choices with the former favouring open topped vehicles from which they could fire from while the latter used more heavily armoured trucks which were almost as durable as Imperial Guard Chimeras, almost. The most fearsome of all were the vehicles which belonged to the Lead Heads.

Like the Psycho Sirens, the Lead Heads were a single gendered faction, composed entirely of men who took copious amounts of drugs such as muscle enhancing steroids and were quite fond of piercing themselves with bullets as ornamentation. Their vehicles were large, converted trucks, the sort which would normally be used to transport promethium but like all the rest, were now covered in plates, spikes and were completely loaded with lots of guns. On many occasions in the past, the vehicles of the Lead Heads were used as battering rams and sledge-hammers for all out assaults.

Quietly waiting for the warband to finish their preparations, Naranair already had his own transport prepared. His back leaned on the sleek hull a Venom Transport which was equipped with twin Splinter Cannons and a Flickerfield while the Dark Eldar Captain himself had now carried a Blaster and a Shard Carbine. Riding at the back were a group of four alien mercenaries who were all heavily equipped for war.

Two of which were Kroot mercenaries he had picked up in Footfall, both carried long range hunting rifles and modified Tau Pulse Carbines which had the grenade launcher part replaced with a human made ones so that it could fire some actual explosive ordnance rather than grenades which can only blind targets. The third alien mercenary who operated the rear-mounted Splinter Cannon was a shape-shifting Lacrymole which often took the form of human youths as a way to catch prey off-guard. The fourth creature was a rather large, Loxatl mercenary which was equipped with the common Flechette Blasters used by the reptilian aliens.

When the human members of their warband were finally ready to depart, Naranair called to the aliens underlings and they quickly mounted up on the back of the Venom. Drawing forth a webway device, the Dark Eldar Captain activated it and soon, a gateway appeared before the parked Venom. Naranair quickly then climbed into the cockpit of the vehicle and he began to power up machine.

Soon the Venom lifted off from the deck of the hangar and gracefully glided into the webway portal which would bring them to the planet below.

* * *

The Teleportarium of the Space Marine Battle Barge became a grisly abattoir as dozens of bloodied corpses now littered the entryway. While the bravery of the ship's defenders was, admirable, it sadly did not make up for their lack of skill in trying to repel the small, well-armed boarding party. It was not much of a surprise supposed Captain Lucretia whose powered blades dripped with gore for there was hardly any cover to use.

Had the pirates not been equipped with the Hunting Rigs, they would have been overrun by the Chapter Serfs. Oddly, they had yet to encounter a single Space Marine which the Captain supposed was a mixed blessing in itself for if they had encountered several of the Astartes then she would have highly doubter their chances of survival. With only a few minutes left before the improvised Melta bomb detonated, the Captain now had half a mind to teleport out of there.

'Four minutes Captain' announced one of the boarders who wore an Orrus Rig and Lucretia nodded to the man.

'Is the _Void Duchess_ still within range? Asked the Pirate Captain who remained confident of their chances.

'Aye captain' replied another of her boarding party who was equipped with a Malcadon Rig which had been modified to fire Eldar Mono-filaments and was carrying the Teleport Homer. 'But she will not remain in teleportation range for long.'

'Then let us leave this place' announced Lucretia who sheathed her Main Gauche and pulled out from her belt, the detonator of the bomb.

A familiar feeling of weightlessness and displacement came over the Pirate Captain as her body and those of the boarding team were partially being sent into the Warp. She counted for a moment, making sure to time things just properly for the Captain had always had a weakness for the dramatic. It was then at the very last second that Captain Lucretia thumbed the detonation device of the bomb and as they disappeared from the material universe, they barely missed the great blast wave of super heated gas which caused sections of the ship to suddenly melt into slag and crew who were caught became clouds of ashes before they even knew it.

A slight, mischevious grin spread across the face of Captain Lucretia for despite not seeing the destruction, she reveled in the knowledge of what had happened and what her role in it had been.

* * *

The _Flame of Dymlos_ violently shook as an explosion ripped through the ship. Chapter Serfs and liberated slaves screamed in terror as bodies were violently thrown about. Chapter Master Harker also lost his footing during ordeal and he was forced to steady himself on the wall next to him.

'Status Report!' demanded the Chapter Master over the vox, he had been on his way to the Teleportarium which was quite some distance away from the Command Bridge.

'Melta charge detonation in the Teleportarium my lord' replied a Chapter Serf back on the Bridge. 'The ship has sustained catastrophic damage in the adjacent decks, casualties are still counting'

'Block of all damaged section and reroute power, I want all repair Servitors mobilized!' demanded Aurelius and the crewman obeyed. 'What is the status of the _Invictus_ and the Ork Fleet?' asked the Space Marine who could hardly believe in either possibilities that the crew aboard the _Invictus_ had either turned traitor or if the ship had been taken by pirates.

'M-my lord' spoke the Chapter Serf he had been talking to over the vox with a stunned quality to his voice.

'What is it?' growled the Chapter Master who found that this day was just getting worse and worse.

'It-its not the Invictus my lord!' shouted the Serf and all of a sudden, the _Flame of Dymlos_ began to shake again.

'Damnation! What is going on out there!?' demanded Aurelius Harker.

'Ship fire my lord!' replied the Serf 'enemy ship is firing at us! Void Shield still stable!'

By the Emperor, thought the Chapter Master who was now faced with a dire dilemma. The hostile ship which had masqueraded as the Invictus was likely now flanking the _Flame of Dymlos_ yet if they turned around to face them then they could be left dangerously exposed to the Ork Fleet. The situation would have been similar for the fleet of smaller ships which were outclassed and outgunned by the alien Cruisers.

'Hold positions and maintain the bulwark, launch all Fury Interceptors to engage the ship' ordered the Chapter Master with resignation for although his tactical mind told him that they should all break formation and engage in hit and run tactics, he knew that if they did so, they would leave Aaru completely exposed to a full-scale invasion.

There were thousands of people depending on the Aquila Veritas for their protection and if they could not protect the lives of innocents then what use was their crusade? Death or Glory thought the Chapter Master who secretly knew that this day would one day come but he had that it never would.

* * *

With eager eyes did Kaptain Bashnag Starkilla watch as the human fleet came closer to his own. Atop Da Wurld Krumpa and every ship in the Freebooter Fleet, Da Jolly Ork was raised high, a sign to show the enemy that Da Boyz were coming for them! A feral smile spread across the Kaptain's face as they powered through the void of space and the grotz which operated the various terminals were reporting that all guns were ready to start the dakka.

'OPEN FIRE LADZ!' roared Kaptain Starkilla and his command was immediately relayed to every other Ork Ship.

Laser Lance batteries, Torpedoes and Macro Cannons, Plasma Projectors were launched from the renegade Space Marine fleet while the Orks fired back with their own, slug-throwing weapon, rockets and Zzap Kannons. Within each of the Freebooter ships, work-gangs of gretchin and snotlings were whipped by Runtherdz to load the guns with slugs and rockets. Squadrons of specially trained "Rokkit Grotz" clambered onto the cockpits placed at the front of torpedoes, each one of the little greenskins seeking their one shot at glory.

From the hangars of the Freebooter Kroozers, Fightas-Bommers swarmed out like angry buzz-squigs, each leaving a trail of smoke and flooding the communications channels with a unified roar 'WAAAGGGGHHHH!' In the distance, Kaptain Starkilla also saw several human fighter craft being launched from the hangars with many going after the _Void Duchess_. Hardly worried about the ship of Captain Tarneth which had enough firepower to take on an Imperial Navy Battle Cruiser, the Ork Kaptain watched the bright display as human naval weapons crashed against the shields of _Da Wurld Krumpa_.

Now this was a proper fight, thought Kaptain Starkilla as both fleets became fully engaged in the void battle. Long range fire continued to be exchanged between them and the Ork Fleet powered on, eager to get in close enough to board the human ships. In the mind of the Freebooter Kaptain, he already began to visualize all the improvements he would make once they captured the ships.

A Looted Battle Barge would make a fine addition to his fleet.

* * *

Looking up to the day lit sky with apprehension, Scout Sergeant Andros Maithen saw the brief explosions which could be seen all the from Aaru's surface. He had already received word of a xenos fleet being detected within the sector and that the small fleet of ships which belonged to the Chapter were already engaged in battle. He wanted to be up there, to join the battle once the ships came in close enough to for boarding actions but there simply had not been enough time send transports to pick up the Space Marines who were still on the planet.

The best he and his Battle Brothers could do at the moment was to prepare their charges, the militia companies for the possibility of a ground invasion. A soft, frustrated sigh escaped the lips of the Scout Sergeant as he then turned his attention to the township he had been assigned to. The eyes of several men and women were focused on the lone Space Marine who naturally was seen as a lead figure.

Big speeches were never his specialty; he tended to leave that sort of thing to the Force Commanders, Chaplains and those Brothers who were made for commanding roles. Taking a deep breath and pretending that he was talking to a band of young neophytes, he began to speak in a tone that was loud, firm yet calm at the same time.

'I know you are all scared' announced the Scout Sergeant who decided to just give it to them straight. 'But we all knew that this was an eventuality which may have one day come for such is the way of the universe. In times like this, we must all look to one another for only together do we stand a chance at survival. All I can say is that remember your training, remember all that I have taught you and I promise that we will get through this together.'

His words seemed to have the desired effect for although it was not the rousing speech which put fire in the bellies of troops, it made them feel a bit more confident as they looked to one another and they knew what the stakes were. Like the Space Marines themselves who called each other a Battle Brother, these militia would see each other as kin, regardless of what planet the person had been born on.

'Sergeant!' shouted one of the women named Kirsten who had so far proven to be a fairly competent hunter and a promising sniper. She then pointed up to the sky, behind the Scout Sergeant who immediately had a bad feeling about this and he looked to see what it was.

'Oh hell' breathed the Scout Sergeant as a massive cargo lander was descending from orbit and judging by its trajectory, it would land in the forests north of the colony. Looking to his charges again, he quietly regretted not having had more time to train them.

* * *

Emerging from the temporary, Webway Gate, the Venom flew over plains of golden grass; its profile was blurred thanks to its Flickerfield. Commoragh manufactured Bio-Scanning equipment which had been installed into the cockpit's piloting terminal was now specifically set to seek out human prey and Naranair detected a small number not far away. Activating the thrusters of the skimmer vehicle, the Dark Eldar Captain and his mercenary underlings sallied forth like a bird of prey finding something to devour.

Moving at a speed which could only be achieved by superior, Eldar technology, Naranair soon found his targets and he readied the Splinter Cannons attached to the bottom of the craft. Before the prey even knew that the fast moving Venom was near, the Captain had opened fire and he brought down a pair of humans with a single burst before his underlings began shooting as well. In less than ten seconds, several bodies hit the grassy ground and those who had survived the sudden onslaught were quick to flee.

'Disembark!' commanded Naranair as he slowed down the Venom just by a fraction and the Kroot along with Loxatl leapt out from the back while the shapeshifter remained on the rear Splinter Cannon. Toxic shards, pulse rounds and razor-sharp Flechettes were unleashed by the aliens who shot at anything which moved and they all reveled in the thrill of the hunt. Naranair then mercilessly pursued the fleeing prey and before long, the Bio-Scanner was not picking up any moving humans.

Turning the Venom around decelerating its movements, he then headed back to the spot where he had first opened fire and it was there that he set down the skimmer. Pressing a button that would open up the cockpit, the Dark Eldar Captain soon leapt off from the driver section with a Shardcarbine clenched in his gauntleted right hand. He then approached the fallen form of a human he had shot and was glad to have had the foresight in replacing the Splinter Cannon's ammunition with an alternative toxin which were not powerful to kill a target but was rather intended to incapacitate someone through sheer pain.

His fallen victim lay face first on the golden grass and the Captain carefully turned the human over. He then came face to face with a dark skinned male specimen of the Mon'keigh species whose features were contorted in exquisite agony. Naranair then pulled out his flaying knife and he spoke in a low, threatening tone, 'I have so many questions to ask you…'


	8. Chapter 7

Light, bare feet softly pattered against the cold metal decks of the _Chillwind_ as a pair of hulking forms, the _Draichs_ , followed after a single, red robed figure, like children accompanying their mother. The Heretek and former Magos Biologis, Najeda Antare traveled through the spacious, well-lit corridors towards the cell where her master's latest guest had been temporarily quartered. Arcane sensors of xenos-manufacture, designed to detect the presence of psykers had alerted the former Tech Priestess of warp energy in use.

Thralls both human, alien and otherwise stayed out of the way of the Genetor Heretek, lest they be marked for "experimentation" in the near future. Concealed beneath the folds of her robes, Najeda carried a Needle Pistol which had been loaded with potent neuro-toxins, in case she needed to defend herself. What the psyker her master had brought aboard was doing, she had no idea but while the Captain and many of the warband were engaged in their planetside operation, it was up to her to ensure that the ship remained safe in orbit.

When they arrived at the sealed doorway leading into the witch's quarters, the Heretek softly rapped her bare knuckled hands upon the metallic surface and she called for the psyker's attention.

'What are you doing in there!?' called Najeda and her answer was silence. Giving a patient few more seconds for the witch to explain herself, the Heretek called again and once more, there was no answer. Quickly hitting the open button on the console next to the door, the two _Draichs_ quickly stormed into the quarters with blades readied and to the surprise of Najeda, the witch was nowhere to be found.

'Mistress?' came the confused, raspy voice of one of the _Draichs_ who turned its expresionless, helmeted head towards her.

'Find the witch!' demanded the Magos for she did not wish to displease her master.

* * *

Aboard the Looted Strike Cruiser, the ship which had once been known as _Invictus_ , a diminutive greenskin, a gretchin to be precise named Gazlo who had once been a Mek of good standing among the Freebooterz, rubbed his aching backside. After that muck up of that last teleport which had sent the boss to the wrong ship, Gazlo had received such a thrashing that the Paindoks had to replace his spine with loads of metal bit.

As soon as he recovered, the Gazlo had been kicked out of his old shop and was now in charge of orkying up the umie wargear they had taken from the Marine Boyz. Now here he was in a storage of the ship which had a big pile of gunz and other pieces of scrap dumped within it, for hours, he had been hammering quite uselessly at a Space Marine breastplate so that if could be fitted over one of the Nobz. All he had for help were a couple of other Gretchin who enjoyed his misery and a bunch of snotlings who didn't do anything but lollygag.

It wasn't fair, thought the Gretchin who cast an angry glance at the group of Snotlings busily scavenging around the big pile of gunz and one of the gits gave him a rude gesture before scampering off. He was fairly certain that one of the stupid little runts had purposefully sabotaged da boss's Teleporta Pad and it was a good thing by Gork that old Starkilla had ended upon on the cargo ship and not in the void or in the Warp itself. They probably were trying to get him killed, trying to ruin his reputation or some other form of payback for like all Gretchin, Gazlo hated the little blighters who liked to squeal to the orks on whatever things an honest Gretchin did.

Swearing to Mork that if he found out which a stinking snotling messed around with the teleporta's setting, he would stick a choppa so far up the git's rear that- a sudden loud shriek of surprise and fear came from the metal door leading outside and every greenskin within the storage room turned their heads toward the source of the noise. A snotling sprinted into the run with a look of terror on its face and it began babbling to the other grotz, pointing a finger towards where it came from.

An instinctive rush of fear coursed through Gazlo as his eyes widened with fear and he saw a single figure swathed in cream coloured garments. One of the snotlings chattered to the others, telling them to rush the thing and the Gretchin had half a mind to do so but there was something at the back of head which told him that if he did, it would be the last mistake he would ever make. The Snotlings shrieked high pitched battle cries of "Waaagghh!" as they tried to rush the intruder and before they could even get passed two steps, something began to move from the pile next to him.

Something suddenly exploded out from beneath the mound of scavenged wargear, sending out bits of scrap metal and broken equipment. In a blink of an eye, a gleaming sword appeared in the hands of the intruder who quickly swept the blade low and green heads were sent flying. As soon as it began, it ended, leaving eight dead snotlings and Gazlo who was still breathing, he felt just about ready to soil his britches.

The intruder then turned its gaze towards him and all the blood drained from the Gretchin's face when he saw those faceless features which bore down upon him. An eerie glow began to surround the intruder and the air shimmered behind it. Whispering voices began to fill the head of the Gretchin as the intruder turned towards the shimmering air and it stepped towards before disappearing like some sort of ghost. A foul smell began to fill the storage room as Gazlo immediately lost the battle to keep his bowels clenched and he sat there amidst the corpses of the snotlings, paralyzed by his own fear.

* * *

A fresh coating of gore spattered the Warsuit of Naranair who felt invigorated by fresh agony. The bloody remains of the _Mon'keigh_ huntsman lay by his feet, glistening red meat shining under the sunlight and nearby his alien henchmen fed upon their most recent kills. High above in the planet's orbit, the ships which carried the rest of their warband blazed with the heat of entry, their descent were guided by a beacon aboard the Venom. Quickly moving to the cockpit, the Dark Eldar captain made a quick check of the Bio-scanner to see if the area around them was clear and he detected that they were the only sentient beings within a few miles.

'Spread out and keep the landing zone clear!' commanded Naranair and the alien mercenaries obeyed.

One of the kroot began cawing at its fellow and the Loxatl with each of the aliens obeying before bounding off towards the grasslands around them. On the back of the Venom, the shape-shifting Lacrymole which had taken on a new, human form went back to operating the rear-mounted Splinter Cannon. Activating the communications unit aboard the Venom, he quickly checked in with the _Chillwind_.

'This is Naranair, come in' announced the Dark Eldar as he settled himself within the pilot seat. 'Status report on the other ships'

'The Orks are fully engaged with the Space Marine fleet my lord' replied the voice of a male human underling in charge of communications. 'The _Void Duchess_ has inflicted heavy damage on the enemy flaghship and the other ships have begun landing their own forces.'

'Is psychic communications still down?' asked Naranair who was familiar with the Imperium's reliance on psykers for long range transmissions.

'Aye my lord! The warp shadow from the _Void Duchess_ is still in place!' answered the communications officer.

'Inform me once the other forces have landed' spoke Naranair before cutting the link and he kept his eyes upon the Bio-scanner. Hopefully, everything would go according to plan but in his own experiences, such luck was scant to be had.

* * *

Klaxons blared across the citadel of the Aquila Veritas and all within it were placed on high alert. For the very few remaining Astartes, it was expected for them to be ready at a moment's notice but for the common un-augmented humans, they were quick to man their stations with a degree of alacrity and discipline that would have been fitting for a regiment of the Imperial Guard. Despite the seemingly ordered manner which the defenders prepare for battle, a sense of fear and unease was deeply felt by many, especially by the Amman-Zhar whose powers allowed him to peer into the hearts and minds of others.

Garbed in his full regalia of war, the Librarian strode through the Chapter's planetary headquarters. Outwardly, it would have appeared no different compared to the bases of most Space Marine Chapters for there were structures such as a Fortress Monastery, several Chapel Barracks, Armories and Landing Pads for their vehicles but what set it apart were the fortifications around it. Great rockrete walls defended the fortress, each wide enough to accommodate the placement of automated defense turrets guided by techno-arcane cogitators and machine spirits.

It was the intention of the Chapter Master that one day, the citadel would become the heart of a city a place where the Battle Brothers could easily interact with the very people they were sworn to defend and who would one day give rise to future generations of Astartes. Auxiliaries and serfs respectfully bowed to Librarian as he passed them by and he gave them little acknowledgement as he headed towards the citadel's HQ. Any attacking force would have to navigate through the many ramparts and walls off the citadel which had also been designed to make things even more difficult for attackers the further they went in.

The Librarian soon came to the front of the Fortress Monastery, the hangar like doors which led inside were left open but guarded by two gun servitors armed with heavy bolters. The servitors of course, allowed him in without hindrance and the Librarian made his way to the communications hub within the structure. Once he arrived within the chamber which served as the center of their Vox-network, he found a group of Chapter Serfs busily monitoring the communications between those Battle Brothers still on the planet and those engaged in orbit.

'What do we have?' asked Amman-Zhar towards the nearest Chapter Serf.

'Multiple incoming ships landing near the colonies of Madenburg, Lynskville and Belshire' dutifully replied a Serf.

'Dropships?' questioned the Librarian.

'No my lord, we have received visual confirmation that the invaders are using Imperium civilian cargo transports' said the Serf.

'Could be Ork Freebooters' commented the Librarian who had in the past, faced unusually devious and cunning greenskin pirates who hijacked Imperial ships for the purpose of infiltration.

'Possible my lord, but we have received a message from the _Flame of Dymlos_ that they have just been boarded by hostile human forces and the Battle Barge is now suffering from severe internal damage. The Librarian wanted to mutter the words, heretic, but he caught himself before it could escape his lips for such a thing would have had no place in the Imperium which the Emperor truly wanted.

'Send out outriders to those settlements and inform our brothers and the auxiliaries that they may be facing human enemies as well' commanded the Librarian.

'As you will it my lord' spoke the Serf again and Amman-Zhar nodded while monitoring the communications of the others. This was not just some random pirate attack thought the Librarian for it was one thing to be attacked by raiders from one species but from multiple different ones? Surely there must be more to it.

Figuring out what the invaders were there for would have to wait but until then, he was going to have to coordinate the defenses on Aaru's surface.

* * *

Quickly making a series of hand signals, Scout Sergeant Maithen led a group of militiamen towards where he was sure the transports were landing. The auxiliaries obeyed and they quietly moved through the brush, their progress was hardly hampered by the wild foliage around them. Vox silence was being maintained and they relied on their own selves to maintain communications.

Armed with a Stalker-pattern Boltgun, the un-augmented humans who accompanied him were for the most part, armed with solid-projectile or laser weapons which were better suited for hunting wildlife. If they encountered anything with heavier armour or vehicles though then they certainly would have more than a bit of trouble on their hands.

'Do you really think it is xenos?' whispered a nearby militiaman not far away from the Scout Sergeant.

'Aye, I heard over the vox about Orks' answered another.

'Is it an invasion?' fearfully asked a third militia member.

'Quiet, all of you' hissed the Scout Sergeant and immediately they became silent.

The roars of engines were heard from underneath the canopies of the forest and he saw the shadows of the transport ships pass by. Not far now realized the Scout Sergeant who was able to identify the distance of the crafts through hearing alone. Taking cover behind the trees, they soon came to one of the landing sites, an open forest clearing where an Arvus Lighter was touching down.

A patina of rust and grime covered the transport, its markings signified that it had once been a commerce vehicle belonging to a trade guild. Trusting the training of his charges and confident that they were now surrounding the transport, he peered into the scope of his Stalker and he took aim at the cockpit.

He heard the sound of the Lighter's rear loading ramp and he held his breath to steady his aim. A moment of tense silence passed and through his enhanced senses, he heard the patter of bare feet over metal. It was then that the loud crack of a stub rifle rang out across the clearing it was followed by another shot. Pressing the trigger on his bolter, he launched a single, armour piercing round which struck the clear surface of the transport, punching a clean hole into the cockpit and splattering the pilot's blood all over the glassy cover.

Loud, bestial screeches, different from those of Orks were then heard from the Lighter and more shots rang out. A corpse fell from the ramp and the Scout Sergeant briefly looked to see exactly what they were up against. To his surprise, the Space Marine saw a hideous creature that was clearly no xenos but a mutant!

Dressed in the tattered remnants of an Imperial Navy Bosun's uniform, the mutant was a lanky, long limbed abomination with arms which ended with claws of blackened nails, its face was ugly and animalistic and he saw the red ruin that was left of its throat. A pack of similar mutants began bounding out from the rear loading ramp, the creatures continued to screech like rabid animals. Shots from rifles rang out, felling two more of the creatures but there were still more of things.

'Sir! we have mutants!' shouted a man from another party over the Vox.

'Engage skirmish formation!' replied the Scout Sergeant. 'All squads, do not let them get close to you!'

'Oh frakk! They have a psyker!' called a woman from a third militia party. 'Fall back! fall ba-'

The channel was suddenly then cut by the loud crackle of electricity and he heard the pained screams from the other squad.

'Squad three report!' called the Scout Sergeant as he sighted down on another mutant that was trying to make it to the cover of the trees and he fired a shot that hit the fiend in the right knee cap and felling it to the ground. 'Dammit report!' repeated the Scout Sergeant and all he received was silence.

Muttering a curse, he sighted down on another of things and he took aim. Once they cleared out this pack of mutants, they would need to find this psyker and hunt it down.

* * *

The _Void Duchess_ shook as the ship weapons and the fighters of the Renegade Astartes fleet pounded on the now raised shields and in turn, the pirate ship fired back. Eldar-crafted laser batteries fired at all around them, causing several of the smaller ships within the fleet to be destroyed while the larger ones had their own shields severely weakened. Aboard the Bridge of the _Duchess_ , Captain Tarneth likened the performance of her ship to one of the deadly dances of the laughing ones.

'Maintain fire and get us out of here' calmly commanded the pirate captain who felt absolutely thrilled to be at the heart of a ship to ship battle. Still clad in her bloodied Hunting Rig, she looked to a nearby terminal and Lucretia saw that her ship's systems were still fully operational, the crews knew what they needed to do and the xenos artificial intelligence which guided the ship did its part in coordinating the different sections of the _Void Duchess_.

Switching to the ship's sensors, the captain saw that Kaptain Starkilla's fleet would in a matter of minutes, be close enough to engage the Space Marines in boarding actions. The _Void Duchess_ would then move to the coordinates provide by the _Vashnasesh_ and be ready to perform orbital strikes upon the Astartes planetary stronghold. It really was fortunate that "Lady von Karsen" as the shape-shifter now called itself, was more capable of gathering such vital information through sorcerous means.

Fury Interceptors from the Renegade Astartes fleet continued to harry the _Void Duchess_ but the pirate ship's defensive batteries made short work of the smaller targets, many of whom were clearly not the most skilled of pilots. There were not enough of the fighters to pose a serious threat to the pirate ship and with the attentions of many of the enemy ships focused on the approaching Orks, the Void Duchess was soon able to get clear of the fleet.

'Activate Holo-fields' commanded the Captain and the shields were immediately powered down in time for the Void Duchess's profile to be blurred to both bare eyesight and to mechanical sensors. Confident that Kaptain Starkilla's fleet would buy the others time they needed, Lucretia awaited to see what new developments would come to pass for as ever, there was always the chance that the situation would drastically change. Vigilance was key at times like this and the proper reaction to sudden changes would spell the difference between success and failure of their little endeavour.

* * *

Primitive human ship engines roared as they touched down upon the surface of the planet and Naranair eagerly awaited their arrival. The flat open plains which served as their landing zone was the perfect location for the many heavy transports and vehicles of their warband and as soon as the loading ramps descended, the roars of even more engines mixed with war cries were heard from within the vessels. Dozens of crude, _Mon'keigh_ ground vehicles raced down from the transports, the crews and drivers of each vehicle raising their fists at the sight of Naranair and in turn he raised his left hand high and gripped into a fist as well.

'KHAINE BE WITH US!' shouted the Dark Eldar Captain and he pressed a button on the control terminal of the Venom, sealing the cockpit while the two Kroot and the Loxatl mercenaries swiftly returned and boarded the skimmer vehicle. Rising up from the surface, the graceful yet deadly transport led the way of their warband, its profile still made hazy by the Flickerfield installed into it.

A great cloud of dust was kicked up by the dozens of ground-based vehicles as the tracked wheels churned up the earth and like a rampaging Ork Waaagh they rode across the plains. With the information provided earlier by the Vashanesh and the recent encounter with the human hunting party, the warband had a fairly good idea on where the main base of the Renegade Astartes would be. All they needed to do now was to get in position and be ready to strike at the right moment.

Trusting that the loathsome, Intendant Intemperance and its own band of mercenaries would do their part, Naranair kept his mind focused on getting his warband to their intended destination. Swiftly moving across the open plains in daylight, he knew that any enemy force would quite literally be able to see them from a mile away, as such he hoped that they could get this job done as quickly as possible before the rest of the Renegade Astartes returned. Keeping an eye on the Bio-scanner as they travelled he soon picked up a series of new signatures approaching them.

Looking up from the terminal and towards the clear surface of his Venom's the windshield, he saw another cloud of dust rising up in the horizon. The communications device in his vehicle came to life with crude human voices filling the channel, questions abound on whether they should engage or not.

'Ready all weapons and open fire once they are within range!' commanded the Dark Eldar Captain over the communications channel with a fair degree of certainty that the approaching group ahead of them was not one of their allies. As the distance closed between the two forces, Naranair was quickly able to discern exactly what they were facing.

A group of _Mon'keigh_ bike riders numbering in the low dozens led by three Space Marines were closing in on them and he could see a Land Speeder hovering above them. Now this might be interesting, thought Naranair who accelerated the speed and altitude of his Venom and moving way ahead of the crude ground-based transports used by the rest of his warband. Soon, bolt rounds were sent flying towards the skimmer from the Astartes, the miniature rockets struck only air as the Flickerfield confused the sights of the Space Marines.

'Focus on the Land Speeder!' commanded the Dark Eldar and immediately did the rear mounted Splinter Cannon along with the bottom mounted one open fire while the two Kroot which held on to the sides fired their Pulse Carbines. Both swift moving anti-gravity vehicles passed each other by, the Land Speeder possessing superior physical protection against Splinter fire and the Anti-Personnel Pulse Rounds while the Venom made it very difficult for an enemy to take aim and get a bead on it.

On the plains below, bullets and laser fire were exchanged as the mercenaries engaged the Astartes led defenders. The latter may have had the advantage of having Space Marines leading them but the former had the advantage of numbers, heavier vehicles and heavy weapons available to them. Flesh and steel were torn to shreds by the barrage of fire, causing vehicles to flip over and some even exploded in a shower of metal and plumes of smoke and fire.

Confident that his underlings would know what to do, Naranair made a sharp turn of his Venom and he spun the vehicle around to face the Land Speeder which had done the same. Pressing the button to open the cockpit, the brief hiss of escaping air was soon replaced by the gale of wind as the vehicle flew across the air. Drawing forth his Blaster from the side of his pilot seat and holding it up in a one-handed grip, he knew that he had make this shot count.

The storm of bolter rounds continued unabated, each shot getting closer and closer to the Venom and the Dark Eldar Captain focused all of his attention upon the Land Speeder and finally, he took the shot. A lance of Darklight leapt out from the barrel of the Blaster's barrel, ionizing the air and in a blink of an eye, it struck the center of the vehicle, between the Space Marine pilots and into the main body of the transport. Bright orange flame blossomed from within the vehicle and raining burning pieces of metal while the Mon'keigh pilots or at least what was left of them were sent plummeting down into the plains.

Quickly shutting the cockpit again, he briefly heard the victorious cries of the others aboard the Venom. With the battle still ensuing below, Naranair turned his attention to the remaining Astartes. Like a bird of prey, the Venom swooped down from the sky, Splinter Cannons unleashing their deadly payloads of crystallized toxins against their bike riding targets. The death and pain from the ensuing battle served only to further invigorate the Dark Eldar.

* * *

The void of space surrounding the _Flame of Dymlos_ was lit up by countless smaller fires as ordnance exploded upon the shields and fighters were destroyed. Men and Greenskin fought and died as they always had for millennia in that cold vacuum, no mercy was given nor asked for. It was a sobering thing to see for the Chapter Master as the small fleet his Brothers had tried to build over the few short years of raiding was now being completely annihilated by the alien fleet.

Merchant ships, cargo haulers and the few Escorts which they had acquired were simply no match and against a fully fledged Ork Kill Kroozer, much less eight of the foul things with one being far larger and more powerful than the rest. The Void Shields of the _Flame of Dymlos_ still held and its cannons sang a song of doom to the aliens. Fiery holes were blasted into the hulls of the Kill Kroozers, condemning hundreds of greenskins to death, whether it be from the heat of their lances, the explosions of torpedoes or being sucked out into the void itself.

In another life, such destruction would have stoked the Chapter Master's warrior heart, in another life, when he had still been blinded into what the Ecclesiarchy had taught to the rest of the Imperium, he would have felt a savage form of satisfaction in purging the alien. Now all he felt was nothing, the deaths of so many men and women, people his Battle Brothers had liberated from the bondage of slavery were now dying, for them. Having long ago learned to harden his heart, Aurelius maintained his calm, despite the death which now surrounded him and he swore to make the greenskins pay for every human life lost.

Near the center of the Command Bridge, in front of Aurelius, a great holo-map depicting the ongoing space battle was displayed and through it, the Chapter Master observed the placement of each ship. With his power armour already patched into the fleet's Vox-network, he directly gave commands to the captains of each ship, coordinating their volleys of fire and performing flanking maneuvers upon the greenskin fleet. Ultimately though, it was a battle of sacrifice and attrition for the _Flame of Dymlos_ was the only ship which was currently capable of dealing any real damage to the Kill Kroozers while the rest of the fleet could only try to prevent the Battle Barge from being flanked or attempt to distract the Orks and buy the _Flame_ more time.

The decision to send which ship ahead and which should stay was not an easy one for he held no illusions that a certain death was what awaited many. Even if victory was achieved today, it would be a most bittersweet one for he had no doubt that it would leave many widows and orphans on Aaru. Again, it was something which he merely pushed to the back of his mind and a part of him, an old habit really, wanted to pray to the Emperor and commend the souls of the fallen into his care, even if their lord on Terra clearly did not wish to be seen by his followers as a god.

A burning Fury Interceptor flew across the windows at the front of the Bridge, smoke and flames wreathed its wings as slugs from an Ork Fighter craft chewed it up and it exploded in a miniature star which sent shrapnel clattering against the Void Shields of the _Flame of Dymlos_. In response, the guns of the Flame opened fire on the xeno craft and its victory was short lived, like hundreds of others above Aaru. Hate and rage began to build up within Aurelius, his anger directed towards the Ork fleet and to the largest of the greenskin ships which was doing the most damage to the fleet.

'The Ork ships will soon be close enough to begin boarding my lord' announced the non-chalant, emotionless voice of a Servitor.

'Let them come' replied the Chapter Master as placed a gauntleted hand upon the hilt of his power sword. Aurelius Harker also held no illusion that that today, he might finally meet his death but if he was to do so then let it be with a sword in hand and the blood of the greenskins flowing like a great river.


	9. Chapter 8

Gunfire echoed through the forest as the militia squads led by Scout Sergeant Maithen clashed with the mutant horde. His bolter fired miniature rockets, one of which detonated inside the chest of a hideously deformed man with eye stalks like that of a slug. Unlike the first batch of mutants they had fought, a number of these other ones were also armed with guns.

Taking cover behind a thick tree, bullets slammed into it and he was quickly on the move. Returning fire upon his attacker, he cut down a grotesque, four armed woman wielding rusty cleavers and twin stub automatic pistols along with a green scaled thing that was almost as big as an ork. Like the cultists who served the Traitor Legions, these mutants had little in the way of formal training and were heavily reliant on numbers and ferocity.

Against the militia trained by the Scout Sergeant, the mutants died in droves as well aimed volleys cut down the invaders but each loss of their own was keenly felt by both their fellows and the Marine himself. Hardly the time to think on those who were now dying, he continued to sprint towards the nearest of cover, he ejected the current magazine of his bolter and he quickly slammed in a fresh clip. The vox continued to buzz with activity as the fighting continued, confusion spread as squads either asked for orders or someone was giving it.

What worried the Scout Sergeant the most was that he had yet to hear anything about this psyker. From his experience in dealing with such foes, Maithen knew that his best chance was to find the witch and get a drop on it, that was of course if the psyker did not sense his presence first. Moving up to an ancient tree with great roots which dug into the ground, he crouched behind the thick tendrils and he tried to survey the situation.

His line of sight was partially obscured by the many trees, he saw and heard those militia men who still survived and the fierce exchange between them and the mutants. Leaning out from his position, he called one of the militia members, a woman armed with a laser carbine and she quickly began sprinting towards him before suddenly, she was lifted up into the air. The militia woman gasped in surprise as her body rose up and the Scout Sergeant began to feel that unnerving familiar, spine tingling sensation when psychic witchery was at work.

Before he could even get out from his cover to help the woman, her body began to jerk and she wailed in absolute agony. Bones snapped as blood flowed from her eyes and mouth, her limbs bent into very awkward shapes which no human being should even be able to reach without causing severe injury. In the next moment, her neck twisted and the broken body dropped like a sack on the forest floor, the militia woman's face, a mask of unspeakable agony.

Hissing a curse, the Scout Sergeant began to feel that unnatural chill in the spine, the kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. So much for going on a witch hunt…

* * *

 _Da Wurld Krumpa_ shook as another barrage of fire from the Battle Barge struck its hull. Hundreds of Freebooterz died, mostly grotz and snotlings at the wrong place and wrong time. The Orks themselves on the other hand already either all deployed on their fighters or were prepping Landas while boarding parties brawled to get aboard the transports.

At the Command Bridge, Kaptain Starkilla watched as his ship became ever so much closer to the Battle Barge. Thick green fingers tightened around the armrests his throne, the front of which was made from the helmets of dead umie guard boyz. Just a little closer mentally spoke the Freeboter Kaptain and again the ship violently shook.

The fighter craft continued their deadly dances; explosions blossomed between the great ships as they exchanged fire. One of the Kill Kroozers, _Ironklaw_ , was struck by lance fire which obliterated the front section of the ship and it lagged behind the rest of the fleet. Grunting in displeasure but hardly bothered by its loss, the Freebooter Kaptain was completely focused on the approaching Battle Barge.

As the Ork Fleet continued to fire at the renegade Space Marines, they soon came within range of the best part. Hundreds of guns placed along the starboard sides of _Da Wurld Krumpa_ were being readied and the grot crews eagerly loaded the heavy weapon. After a few seconds, the flagships of both fleets opened fired, thousands of energy bolts, rockets and solid rounds were exchanged.

'YES! DO YA FEEL IT LADZ!? DIS IZ IT! excitedly roared Kaptain Stakilla as _Da Wurld Krumpa_ violently shook and the metal hull groaned in agony. The crew around him laughed sycophantically, most of them did not share Bashnag's appreciation for long distance destruction. In fact, Kaptain Starkilla considered it as something of an art-form, to be able to rain down the kind of destruction that only the heavy guns of a starship or a Gargant could unleash.

'ATTENTIAN ALL KREWS!' suddenly announced the high pitched voice of a gretchin over their communications network. 'WE'ZE BE CLOSE ENUFF TA BOARD, GET YA CHOPPAS REDDY LADZ!

'WAAAAGGGHH!' Roared every Ork Freebooter aboard _Da Wurld Krumpa_ in barely constrained excitement and several dozens of Landas were immediately launched from the hangars. Not one himself to trust such methods of transportation, it would have been highly embarrassing to die by getting blown out from space while inside a dropship.

Kaptain Starkilla then ordered over the communication network for the Teleporta to be prepared and the Mek Boyz obeyed and replied that they would begin calibrating at once. Getting up from his throne, the Kaptain hurriedly headed towards the Teleporta Pad and was accompanied by his personal escort of Nobz and Flash Gitz, each Ork was excited to finally see some action. _Da Wurld Krumpa_ rumbled again, this time more violently as something else was hit but Bashnag was not worried for he had been with the ship for many, many years and he knew in his heart that it would take a lot to destroy his personal ship.

Passing through the scavenged, metal corridors of the ship, they were soon joined by other Ork Mobz, mostly Kommandoz, Lootaz, Burna Boyz, Ard Boyz and even a Wyrdboy named Gurzog. Several Ammo Runtz joined them as well, most were carrying extra equipment such as guns, choppas, bombs and ammunition. From the grotz, Kaptain Starkilla acquired his favorite Snazzgun which had an attached ammo belt that connected to an ammo pack which he carried on his back.

The Teleporta Pad was much like the ones used by most warbands to quickly transport large numbers of troops over long distances. At the edges of the pad, large vibrating metal antennae which ended with spheres the size of a Grot, sparked with orange lightning, the energy of it began distorting the boundaries between the material universe and the Warp itself. Large serpentine power cables were attached to the pad, each fed the Teleporta with energy provided by Plasma Generator and a single man generator that sputtered and belched steam.

'All is ready Kaptain' saluted a Big Mek named Zaggabag who would be joining the boarding assault.

'Right ladz! You know what ta do!' bellowed Kaptain Starkilla as he hefted his huge gun. 'Any umie we seez, zogg em up real good!'

'Aye Kaptain!' excitedly replied the Orks and they all began to roar one last time before disappearing into the warp. 'WAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!'

* * *

'At them brothers!' At them!' roared the Pyrophant of the Ordo Igniswho rode on a modified promethium tanker truck, the section that would have contained the precious fuel was now outfitted to be a fortified platform with multiple gun turrets. Burning Promethium leapt out from the flamers welded to their trucks, incendiary grenades which were either hurled by hand or fired from grenade launchers detonated in clouds of flames among the fast moving groups of lightly armoured, enemy bikers. Holding onto a pintle-mounted Heavy Flamer, the Pyrophant fired a gout of flame onto a group of bikers, burning bodies crashed into the grassy ground, the fuel tanks exploded and sending a shower of metal fragments, every death was a blessing, a release from the hell that was life, a delivery into the peace offered by oblivion.

The alien hover vehicle which their master rode upon flew past the Pyrophant's truck, its Splinter Cannons were focused on the renegade Space Marines who in turn, fired back with a hail of Bolter Rounds. Heavy Stubbers, Multi-Lasers and those new Hot-shot Volley Guns spat a volley of death at the enemy bikers, the Marines may have been well protected from the shots but those who followed them were chewed up in seconds. Against the array of heavy weaponry carried by crew of the _Chillwind_ , the renegade Space Marines were forced to disengage after sustaining a few casualties themselves.

'Do not pursue! Everyone regroup!' ordered their master over the vox-frequency and they obeyed, the small fleet of vehicles began to regroup in a loose formation and in the sky, the Pyrophant saw several vehicles approaching. Heavy laser fire rained down from the airborne machines towards the retreating bikers which he recognized were Orgus Flyers, a type scouting craft which had once been used by the Imperium's military but was now a rare sight to see. The mercenaries who served aboard the _Grey Wyrm_ favored the use of the Orguses, using them to hunt down enemy vehicles with Laser Cannons or groups of infantry with anti-personnel rockets.

Allowing the other warband to continue harrying the fleeing enemy, the _Chillwind_ 's crew had time to finish reforming and before long, they were riding out across the plains and kicking up a great cloud of dust. The Pyrophant led his followers into a prayer for there were more souls to redeem for the Burning God.

* * *

'My lord!' called one of the Chapter Serfs within the Fortress Monastery's vox-room. 'Squad Antioch is reporting heavy losses; they have encountered hostile human forces with multiple light vehicles, heavy weapons and flyers en-route to the Citadel'.

'Emperor's blood' hissed Amman-Zhar through gritted teeth for it was one thing to fight an enemy on the ground but another entirely when they had air support. 'Order the quartermasters to bring out the Anti-Tank weapons, all of them!'

'Aye my lord!' responded the Chapter Serf who then began to vox the staff attending the armories.

Listening to the other reports which came in over the vox-network, the Librarian noted something which began to bother him. Quickly calling up a map of the region surrounding the Citadel, a holo-projector at the center of the vox-room powered up and it created a blue-lighted three dimensional map of the area. Red dots began to appear on the map, each a location where enemy forces had been located while green ones represented their own.

Studying the map for a moment, the Librarian saw a disturbing pattern which caused his eyes to widen as he came to one, horrid realization. The invaders knew their defenses…

* * *

'Open fire! Open fire!' roared the deep, booming voice of Brother Terron, a rank and file Tactical Marine placed in charge of the Belshire colonial militia. Auto and Lasguns opened up, sending a volley of fire towards a horde of pestilence and decay. When the Space Marine had heard of the Ork fleet which had arrived in the system, he at first had been expecting greenskins but when he saw the human-manufactured landing ships touch down on the surface, he was further surprised to see that it had disgorged an entire horde of Plague Zombies!

'Aim for their heads! That's the only way to kill them!' commanded the Space Marine whose boltgun was far more powerful but he did not have the ammunition to deal with a horde like this. Shambling towards the colony, the tide of rotted, diseased corpses moaned, unfeeling of the wounds inflicted upon their bodies as they sought out the taste of living brains. Many of the things fell to their guns but like a horde of Orks on a Waaagh or a Tyranid Gaunt Swarm, there were countless more to fill the gaps.

This must be a Chaos invasion thought Terron who had once participated in a campaign over an Agriworld against the Traitor Legions. Between corn farmers who had turned to the worship of the Blood God, drug-addled hedonists who followed the Dark Prince and the sorcerous minions of Tzeentch, none had been more nefarious than the infected of the Plague God's servants. During the war, countless millions of the planet's population had succumbed to disease spread by cultists and Plague Marines, many degenerated into creatures much like what they fought now.

From what Terron knew about Plague Zombies, the ones so consumed by the infection, those closer to being a true revenant could be controlled by the will of a psyker-witch. Keeping an eye out for any possible renegades pyskers or Chaos Marines, he continued to fire his boltgun, the miniature rockets tearing through rotted flesh before exploding inside their bodies and sending them to the true death. When his gun began to click, the Space Marine quickly pressed the eject button which discarded the spent clip and with well practiced precision he reached for a spare attached to his belt.

As soon as he slammed in a fresh magazine into his gun, one of the militia troops exploded in a shower of meat and bone, immediately, he recognized the tell-tale sign of bolter damage. Looking back to the horde, he saw a single, large figure shambling among the horde and much to his horror, it bore the distinct colours of his Chapter. His momentary surprise cost the life of another member of the colonial milita, another body protected by light flak armour proved useless against a bolter round.

Cursing, Terron opened fired on the unknown Traitor; the target merely staggered back from the hail of explosive rounds but still kept on firing towards the defenders of the Belshire Colony with its own bolter. Quickly ordering the militia to focus their fire on the enemy Astartes, he briefly saw a flash of purple light and all of a sudden his body was wracked with searing agony. Warp-fire burned across the armoured body of the Space Marine, superheating the ceramite plates and causing havoc to his armour's life support systems.

The sheer intensity of the heat caused the bolt rounds which he still carried to detonate, cracking open his armour and allowing the supernatural fires to further scorch him and in a matter of seconds, his flesh crumbled into blackened ashes. Colonial militiamen soon died along with their leader as more warp-fire rained down upon them and setting them alight. Those few who survived quickly began to vox the Citadel, requesting for further aid as the shambling horde continued its relentless approach.

Unknown to the remaining militia who now fled back to the colony, a lady dressed in black and red, silently watched them from a shaded anti-gravity skiff. Piloted by another of her mindless servants and concealed by advanced alien holo-technologies which rendered the craft near invisible to the naked eye, she smiled as embers of warp-fire died around her. Sending a mental command to the horde below and her newest plaything, the shape-shifter wondered how long the little colony would last and was more than ready to meet any reinforcements which the Renegade Astartes would send.

* * *

Once more the klaxons of the _Flame of Dymlos_ sounded but this time, it was to signal that the Battle Barge was being boarded. The ship shook as the guns of several Ork ships continued to pound its hull and the weapons batteries aboard answered back with their own deadly salvo. Within the ship, the Chapter Serfs and few Space Marines aboard made their own preparations for the coming assault.

Within a section of the ship, near the Bridge, was a place known as the Reliquary. In a time not too long ago when they had still venerated the Emperor as a god, the Chapter had been counted among those with no permanent base of operations and instead, relied on their fleet of ships, the Reliquary had been constructed to hold the mightiest of their wargear. Within its spacious confines, Chapter Master Aurelius was prepared for war.

Accompanied by his two Honour Guard, each of the three Space Marines were all freshly equipped in some of the finest of armour available to any member of the Adeptus Astartes, full suits of Terminator Armour (the Chapter Master himself had of course, heroically chosen no to wear a helmet, as was customary among the many champions of humanity). Each of the three marines were armed with Relic Blades, ancient weapons with long bloody histories of smiting the enemies of the Imperium. Now readied for the battle ahead, they strode from the Reliquary, seeking the invading xenos-filth.

Needing only to follow the sounds of gunfire and the vox-chatter, Aurelius and his Honour Guard soon encountered the invaders in one of the corridors leading to the Bridge. A large band of Ork pirates armed with a mix of crude pistols and blades charged at the Terminator armoured marines, all shouting their bestial warcry. Huffing with disdain at the sight of this rabble, the Chapter Master swung his powered claymore to the left, the timing of the attack was executed with such flawlessness that in the next moment, three greenskins fell; their bodies bifurcated from waist and sending up showers of green xeno blood.

Wielding their power weapons with expert skill, the three Terminators began hacking and slashing their way through the rampaging horde of greenskins. Small arms fire and crude blades proved near useless against the plates of ceramite and adamantine, the Space Marines effortlessly cut down the aliens and they made sure to stomp down hard upon any head they passed over. As ever, the Orks were heedless of their losses and eagerly assailed the three Astartes who cut through them like a spear into flesh.

'For the Emperor Brothers! For the Emperor!' shouted the Chapter Master and his Honour Guard mirrored his words.

An ork Nob wielding a sparking Power Klaw lunged at the Chapter Master who mastefully parried the melee weapon with his own and the Relic Blade of an Honour Guard was swung towards the neck of the greenskin leader. The alien leader's head tumbled down to the deck and the body stood there for a moment before the armoured fist of Aurelius smashed into its chest and knocking it over before plunging even further into the xeno-infested corridor. Green blood now smeared the Terminator armoured marines, who hardly broke a sweat as the aliens soon began to flee from their might before the loud thunderous roars of heavy gunfire drowned the corridor.

Greenskin bodies were ripped to shreds by a hail of heavy rounds, the sound of which the Chapter Master recognized being from the larger ork guns. At the other end of the corridor, he saw Ork Lootas firing at them with shoulder-mounted heavy stubbers and as usual, the heavy weapons users did not care whether that they shot their kin or the Marines.

'Activate teleporters! Hit those Lootas!' commanded Aurelius and his Honour Guard obeyed. The teleportation devices installed into their armour began to thrum with power and after a few seconds, they disappeared in a flash of orange light, sent into the Immaterium for a moment before arriving back in real-space and among the Lootas. Before the Orks even knew it, the Terminators were among them, Relic Blades swung about, separating limbs and heads from bodies and before long, they were surrounded by a mound of dead greenskins.

With many more aliens still aboard the Battle Barge, the Terminators knew that they still had a long battle ahead.

* * *

Roaring with excitement, Kaptain Starkilla unleashed a hail of bolter rounds from his kustom, triple-barreled Snazzgun. Lightly armoured umiez were blasted apart by the mob of Orks armed with a variety of heavy guns, the sheer volume of large caliber rounds made it next to impossible to avoid getting shot without cover. Those umiez who spent too much time staying in cover though soon found themselves assailed by the Burna Boyz, the flames consumed flesh and the smell of burnt human just made the Freebooterz hungry.

The green tide flooded across the interior of the Battle Barge, the sheer number of Landas that were sent from the fleet was more than enough bring in large numbers of Boyz. So far, they had yet to encounter any actual Marine boyz and instead had run into either regular humans or combat servitors. Kaptain Bashnag was a little disappointed at the lack of such worthy enemies to fight but still, he was having a good time just having something to shoot at.

At brisk pace, the Freebooterz accompanying Kaptain Starkilla penetrated further into the Battle Barge, leaving a trail of spent shell casings and bodies to mark their passing as they headed towards the where ship's Bridge should be. Before long, they Kaptain and his Flashgitz found an area where there were many piled up bodies of fellow orks, a lot of them looked like they had been chopped up proper. Taking a quick survey of the area, the Freebooter Kaptain noted that there were no dead humans about.

'Well lookie ere matiez, we gotz some Marine boyz muckin bout' grinned Bashnag. 'Keep yer eyes open and stay frosty, seems like we got some pretty ded-killy ones too'.

'Aye aye kapn' replied nearest of Orks and many began inserting fresh clips into their guns. As they proceeded forward, the Wyrdboy Gurzog began to become really fidgety.

'I feelz a disturbance in da warp' quietly announced the Wyrdboy.

'Ya ain't gunna get possessed are ya?' growled Bashnag who found fighting daemons to be fun too and would welcome the chance to shoot up some Spikey Boyz.

'Nah it aint that, it-' replied the Gurzog who was immediately cut off by a bright flash of orange light and in less than a heartbeat, his head was parted from his neck.

'Ah zog!' cursed Kaptain Starkilla who instinctively took a step back and he suddenly saw three Space Marines Terminators had just teleported amongst them. Gleaming blades coruscating with deadly power fields were immediately swung about and the eavy armour of the boarding party proved next to useless against such deadly weapons. Quickly recovering from the sudden appearance of the Marines, The Kaptain was quick to level his Snazzgun towards them and he let loose a volley of bolt rounds.

Explosions erupted upon the armour of the Terminators who were merely staggered and they turned around to face the Freebooter Kaptain with power weapons tightly held in their fists. Muttering a curse, the Freebooter leader continued to open fire upon the Space Marines who then charged the Ork boss with thundering steps. Continuing to feel the heavy recoil of his gun, spent bolter casings rained down around the Kaptain's feet and at the range he was shooting, he could not miss.

One Terminator went down to the furious volley but the others were able to get close enough to the Kaptain who activated a switch on the side of his gun which caused the weapon to begin sparking with energy. A heavy power sword came down towards the Kaptain who raised his gun up in time to block the strike, the sparky field which now sheathed his weapon was able to withstand the blow but it would not do so for long. The third Terminator came in hard at the Kaptain who was forced to discard his Snazzgun as a gleaming power blade was thrust towards his gut and the Ork barely managed to evade the deadly weapon.

The surviving Flashgitz and other Orks who had accompanied their Kaptain began shooting at the Space Marines from behind and more than a few slipped past and struck Starkilla who roared in both pain and rage as bullets slammed into him, his eavy armour and natural toughness was the only thing that allowed him to survive the barrage Another flash of light engulfed the two remaining Space Marines and once again, they re-appeared among his crew. Ignoring the pain which wracked his body, the Kaptain quickly reached for his Snazzgun and he pointed it towards the Terminators.

Hardly caring that the umiez were slaughtering his boyz, Kaptain Starkilla opened fired again, he cut down many Orks but managed to down another Terminator. Turning his gun towards the last of the umiez, he was somewhat surprised to see that it was the one Space Marine who was not wearing a helmet. Honestly amazed that none of his bolt rounds had even struck the Terminator's exposed face, he pressed the firing trigger of his gun and instead of the familiar recoil, it began to click.

'Oh zog' whispered the Ork Kaptain and there was a bright flash of from the Space Marine who disappeared again. Dropping his Snazzgun and reaching for his Slugga Pistol, the Freebooter did not have time to react when the Terminator rematerialized.

The glowing Relic Blade of Chapter Master Aurelius found its way to the Freebooter Kaptain's neck and the next thing Bashnag Starkilla knew, his head toppled down to the deck of the _Flame of Dymlos._ When consciousness began to fail Bashnag, he saw the Terminator standing victorious over his headless body.

* * *

Speeding across the grassy plains and ranging ahead of the warband, Naranair accelerated his Venom until it reached top speed. The _Chillwind_ , along with _Grey Wyrm_ and _Void Duchess_ were already getting into place, the final stages of the operation were well under way and all they would need was his crucial part. As the anti-gravity craft continued to head towards its destination, the Dark Eldar Captain soon found the primary bastion of these renegade Space Marines.

Thick walls of stone rose high in distance, his keen eyes picked out the forms of defensive gun emplacements and he had no doubt that there would be many humans defending the place. Had he a proper Kabbalite host, it would have been laughably simple to just bypass the defenses with Venoms, Raiders, Reavers and Ravagers. Such was not the case of course with his warband but he had his ways around it.

Checking the piloting terminal and making sure that the Venom's Flickerfield was still active, he proceeded ahead. His grip tightened on the controls and he could imagine that his underlings on the passenger section did the same as they came closer to the defensive guns of the fortress and after a few seconds, the first shots were fired. Here we go was the Dark Eldar's thought as he pushed his craft forward and into the oncoming barrage.

Banking left and right in a zigzagging motion, he evaded deadly, bone shattering explosions that would no doubt rip the Venom apart if it scored a direct hit. Artillery shells, missiles and soon, a hail of bolt rounds were fired upon him and like one of the laughing _Riellietan_ , he danced around their fire with expert skill. As he drew closer to the walls, the Dark Eldar opened up the cockpit and he drew from the side of his seat a small handheld targeting device modified from those ones used by the Tau.

Aiming the device towards the walls of the fortress he kept a steady hand towards it as a red laser light marked the fortifications. From a small antenna attached to the side of the device, it sent targeting information up into orbit, towards the three ships which now remained high above the citadel.

'Target solution acquired! You better get out of there!' called the voice of Captain Tarneth and Naranair quickly turned his Venom around and he fled from the fortress. A sinister grin spread across his face, beneath his Tormentor Helmet as weapons batteries were being powered up and he pressed a button on the piloting terminal which would activate a rear-mounted camera which would record the main event.

After a few seconds, orbital laser fire began to lance down upon the walls of the fortress, reducing the defenses into vaporized rubble. He could just imagine the confusion and panic of those who survived the first shots and it deeply amused him to think that in seconds, lives were being snuffed out before they even knew what hit them. Switching to the communications frequency of his warband, he gave the order to begin the assault as soon as the orbital bombardment ended.

It was time to finish this little campaign.


	10. Chapter 9

The rush of speed was exhilarating to Naranair Wrathbringer as he pushed the engines of his Venom to achieve its maximum degree of acceleration. Even from the cockpit of his skimmer craft, he could hear the roars of engines which emanated from the fleet of crudely rigged war machines which followed him while Orgus Flyers took to the air. A cloud of dust rose up from where the wall surrounding the Citadel had once stood, the orbital bombardment from the _Void Duchess_ had been most thorough in razing the fortification along with the defense turrets upon it.

Now free to launch their assault without having to fear heavy fire, the warband were like a rampaging Ork horde. The roars of guns and engines became one with voices of hundreds as many quite liberally partook in the consumption of potent cocktails of combat drugs. Naranair needed only the power of pain which had been refreshed by the mad humans of the _Ordo Ignis_ , their habit of self mortification was among the main reasons why he tolerated their mad cult.

Plunging headlong into the veil of dust and smoke, his Venom quickly emerged in a shifting blur as its Flickerfield became active. Holo-targeting displays appeared in front of him and the Dark Eldar Captain opened fire with a salvo of Splinters. Those ordinary human underlings of the Renegade Space Marines who had been in the open were felled by the hails of neuro-toxin shards, their agony further fed Naranair whose senses entered a supreme state of focus.

It was of some surprise to Naranair that the primary bastion of these renegade humans was not a grand keep like the castles of the so called "Feudal Worlds" but rather it was the kind of military base commonly used by Space Marine and to an extent, the Chaos worshipping ones. Normally, such installations were nothing more than mass landing zones for the Astartes forces but with most of their ships which carried the drop pods either out of the system or engaged with the Freebooter fleet, the buildings were now nothing more than fortified shelters. Coupled with knowledge that the base was mostly being protected by normal _mon'keigh_ , the taking of it would be made easier by the warband.

Strafing about the base and continuing to pour more Splinter fire, he engaged his Venom's auto-piloting systems. The machine's artificial intelligence was similar to those used by the older models of Talos Pain Engines which had now fallen out of fashion among the Haemonculi Covens who now favored cybernetic constructs of flesh and metal. Letting go of the controls, he quickly grabbed his blaster which he shouldered and his shardcarbine before hitting the key which would open the cockpit.

'Disembark!' commanded the Dark Eldar Captain and his minions dutifully obeyed. The Venom slowed down enough for Naranair to safely leap out and from the back; both Kroot and the Loxatl mercenaries followed him.

Landing on open grassy ground with a nearby squad of humans firing at the Venom with small arms, they were immediately on the move with guns blazing. The Shardcarbine, in comparison with the common Splinter Rifle, traded range for an increased rate of fire which was more to Naranair's liking. His back mounted Torment Grenade Launcher fired explosive charges towards the humans which detonated in clouds of hallucinogenic gas. His Shadowfield encased him in a protective sphere of darkness which his minions used as covered and shortly after the Kroot engaged the _mon'keigh_ with blades drawn, he too was also among them.

Although close combat was not much of his preferred style, he continued to pump more Splinter rounds towards the human while occasionally using the blades upon his armour to deliver deadly melee attacks. The close proximity to such fresh pain continually reinvigorated Naranair who glutted even further upon it and in his eyes; the entire universe became a slow and ungainly thing as he moved through it with the speed and grace of a _Rillietann_.

As amusing as it would be to outright massacre every foe in the base, Naranair reminded himself why they were on this planet in the first place. If he had to take a guess, the Fortress Monastery of these Renegade Space Marines was likely where they would keep whatever it was they were looking for. First things first he decided as laser bolts struck his field, he should clear the area first.

* * *

An intense heat washed over Scout Sergeant Maithen as the tree he had taken cover behind had been struck by a ball of warp-fire. The sturdy trunk had absorbed much of the blast which still singed his hair, exposed flesh and the fatigues beneath his carapace armor, the wooden cover he used had splintered and cracked in mere seconds before collapsing into a pile of charcoal.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he felt that unnatural charge in the air and he leapt forward. Landing in a roll, he was quickly back on his feet and heading to cover again, he briefly looked back and he saw the psyker witch. Wreathed in sorcerous flames, he saw the masked creature which surely must have been the master of the mutant horde.

Firing his boltgun at the psyker while continuing to run, he cursed as some of the rounds detonated prematurely upon the flames and in response, three bolts of fire were hurled towards him. One fiery projectile struck the forest floor near where he had been standing half a second earlier, another flew right past him and a third caught him in back, at the hem of his camo cloak.

Without breaking his stride, the Scout Sergeant casted off the burning garment and he threw it in the direction of the psyker, in the hopes of throwing off the witch's aim. A few seconds later, he managed to find cover behind some heavy stone outcropping, he lay his back flat against the uneven surface and he began reloading his weapon but a sudden loud, bestial shriek was then heard and he looked ahead to see the loping forms of more mutants.

Spitting another curse, he grabbed another magazine and he loaded it into his boltgun, in time to meet the first of the rabid things. A hairless, grey skinned mutant with a misshapen head, sharp jagged teeth and unnervingly human-like eyes lunged at him with clawed hands splayed wide and before it came within three feet, he fired two bolt rounds which struck true. The savage's right arm exploded along the shoulder in a shower of gristle as another bloody detonation blossomed from where a man's heart would be.

The mutant creature landed dead at his feet but he gave little regard for it as he was already shooting at its pack-mates. More mutants attacked and the Scout Sergeant was uncomfortably reminded by that one time aboard a Space Hulk, he and several squads of Battle Brothers being swarmed by an entire horde of Tyranid Genestealers. He doubted that these creatures had the armour piercing claws of the xeno infiltrators but considering that he was not fully encased in ceramite, he was not about to take any chances.

Sending more of the feral creatures to the grave, his boltgun was absolutely devastating upon the flesh of the unarmoured things but their assault made his situation more dire. Bullets slammed into the stone cover behind him, pebbles and dust fell upon the Scout Sergeant and he saw gun wielding mutants converging upon his position. Firing a round which obliterated the skull of a mutant, his boltgun began to click and he was forced to reload again.

Judging just by the weight of the satchels he carried, Andros knew that he had gone through more than a third of his ammunition and the Scout Sergeant would be forced to fight with his combat knife. He was enough of a realist to know that his chances of surviving would be low if he was forced to engage the mutant horde in melee. The idea of making a tactical withdrawal had crossed his mind but that idea was quickly quashed when he reminded himself on what was at stake.

Things seemed bad from the Vox reports alone and he had heard a transmission that the Citadel was under siege. As much as he wanted to make his way to their main stronghold on the planet, he knew that if he left, the colony he was assigned to protect would be doomed. It was times like this that the Scout Sergeant wished that he and his Battle Brothers had never learned of "The Truth".

His current choices would have been much easier to decide with if he had still believed in the divinity of the Emperor, that his loyal service would be well rewarded with some glorious afterlife. Ah to hell with it he thought as he knew what had to be done.

'For the Emperor' whispered the Scout Sergeant as he jumped out from cover and he began running towards the masked psyker.

More bolts of flame were hurled towards him and the Scout Sergeant barely managed to avoid each one by ducking, leaping and rolling but thanks to his enhanced physiology, he was getting closer. Saving the last of his bolter magazines, he pulled out his knife and he held his gun in one hand. A hideous hunchback with seven eyes leapt towards with spiked clubs held in three hand and the Space Marine stabbed it in the neck.

The adamantium blade thunked into twisted flesh but it became stuck and he was forced to leave it. Soon he felt waves of an even more intense heat wash over him and it felt like he was inside an oven. Ignoring his own discomfort, he continued to put one leg after another as he caught a clear look of his prey.

Dressed in very thick garments, the masked psyker lifted a palm towards him and a great wave of flame leapt forward. Before the fires consumed the Scout Sergeant, he jumped as well and the momentum of his movement was enough to carry him to the psyker. His flesh blackened and charred under the touch of the warp-fire and it took all of his will to latch onto the witch.

Maintaining an iron grip on witch, a small part of Scout Sergeant Maithen asked for forgiveness, both from the Emperor he had for all his life served and to the boy he would be unable to keep his promise to. As the fires consumed his body, the bolt rounds he still carried exploded from the heat, taking both he and the witch.

* * *

A stunned silence filled the deck as Chapter Master Aurelius stood over the decapitated body of the Ork leader. The red eyes of dozens of Ork pirates were staring at the body and as he expected, they began fighting among one another. It began as one large nob pointed a meaty finger towards him, it bellowed orders at its kin and xeno was shot in the face by another Ork.

Having noticed that most of the Orks were armed with guns, the deck soon erupted in a hail of bullets as greenskins began shooting each other at close range. Xeno slugs and the occasional bolt round slammed into his armoured form and the Chapter Master went back to the task of butchery. Weathering the hail of xeno fire again, his Relic Blade cut a bloody swathe through the greenskins.

With the alien guns now not entirely trained upon him, the Chapter Master found himself more free to engage the boarders. The _Flame of Dymlos_ violently shook again and the machine spirit of his Terminator Suit activated its magnetic clamps to keep him steady while many Orks were knocked off of their feet. The Vox-Network suddenly became rife with status reports and what he heard had chilled him to the bone.

'The enginarium has been destroyed, life supports are failing!' voxxed a Chapter Serf.

'All hands, abandon ship!' Orders the Chapter Master. 'Everyone head to the escape pods! All Servitors, initiate Protocol 227.'

Closing the Vox-channel, Aurelius spat an uncharacteristically foul series of profanities through gritted teeth, his eyes glared balefully at the Ork who still lived. If he could, he would overload the ship's engines and send every one of these damned aliens to the void but that would be impossible now and he still had to think about the lives of the ship's crew. It was a poor end to a ship like the _Flame of Dymlos_ which had served the Chapter for five thousand years.

It was a most disheartening thought, that instead of a glorious death in the fires of battle, the Battle Barge would be captured by greenskins. The aliens would no doubt convert the venerable vessel into one of their bastardized rust-buckets and it would be used to sow further destruction upon the Imperium. Unless... he thought as he spotted a number of xeno Stikk Bombs among the belts of the Orks.

Death or Glory grimly thought the Chapter Master as a desperate idea formed in his mind...

* * *

Hundreds of diseased minds were felt by Amman-Zharr as he neared the exit of the Fortress Monastery. The orbital bombardment was of a great surprise to him and when it had hit, he spent only a short time to assess the damage which sufficed to say had been nothing short of catastrophic. With the walls of the Citadel down and its defences destroyed, they were left open to an assault which swiftly came from across the horizon.

The minds which the Librarian felt were like those of Penal Legion soldiers convicted of violent crimes mixed with the addled senses of drug fiends. There were also colder minds among the attackers, thoughts which belonged to cold, cunning and absolutely merciless killers, the sort that would be at home among members of the Officio Assasinorium or an Inquisitor. Then there were thoughts which burned hot with the fires of zeal, minds filled with a religious fanaticism to rival the Daughters of the Emperor.

Yet he also felt the insidious minds of the xeno, of which were must closer to his position. These alien minds were harder to decipher for the Librarian but there was one greater one which made him feel sick to his core. There was a tainted, psychic presence here, one which the Librarian had once felt and would have greatly preferred to never had done so again but by it alone, there was much that was revealed to him.

Through Witchsight, the Librarian saw the foul form of the lone Eldar, its black soul burned with dark fire as it glutted upon the pain and terror of both auxiliary militia and chapter serfs. From reputation and personal experience, Amman-Zharr knew all too well that the deceitful aliens were both cunning and manipulative. It was most likely that this entire assault was a prelude to an Eldar invasion, one cunningly chosen at a time when many of the Chapter's Battle Brothers were away.

Drawing upon the power of the warp, the Librarian's Force Staff gleamed with potent psychic energy and sparks of lightning danced around fingers of his left hand. The automatic front door of the Fortress Monastery opened bepfore him like the ramp of an assault boat and for a moment his vision was filled with sunlight. His enhanced eyes took less than a second to adjust and soon he was outside of the headquarters.

The serfs and auxiliaries who had been positioned outside of the Fortress Monastery took heart at the sight of the Librarian and he felt the surge of hope in their heart. As a Librarian, he would have warned them against having any sort of hope up but he remained silent for any break in the already flagging morale of these simple mortals would be absolutely disastrous. Heavy weapons teams had been focusing their fire upon the enemy flyers which much to the surprise of the Librarian, were an older type of gunship which had once been a more common sight in the armies of the Imperium.

Some of the flyers were blown out of the air from the barrage but the aerial machines were fast and they rained missiles down upon them. A detonation ripped among a missile launcher team near him, an explosion of fire and shrapnel shredded their bodies apart along with a number of other soldiers and the Librarian focused his will on a flyer. The machine was suddenly caught in a powerful, telekinetic grip and by simply thinking it followed by grasping his left hand into fist, the metal plates of the Orgus crumpled like paper.

The machine crashed onto a Chapel Barracks, heavily damaging the rear section and his mind was already upon another. Having spent more than a century serving the Imperium and honing his psychic abilities, the Librarian was highly skilled in wielding multiple psychic disciplines, a jack of trades one might say, but even that was not enough. Although it had quite been some time since he last used his powers for battle, he was inwardly pleased that his talents had not dulled one bit.

After telekinetically destroying three of the flyers, the vox-unit of his armour crackled to life and he heard a voice that raised his spirit.

'This is Tempest Squad Daedelus! We fly for the Emperor!'

As if on cue, several flyers were destroyed as heavy bolters and missiles destroyed the machines. Five Landspeeder Tempests flew overhead, launching their own barrage of missiles upon the attacking air units.

'A timely arrival brothers!' Called Amman-Zharr over the vox.

'Now is not the time to celebrate' grimly replied another voice over the vox. 'We were forced to make decision, to either defend The Citadel or the colonies, we and many others now on the way had chosen the former.'

'Understood' soberly replies the Librarian as a lump formed in his throat.

From the main Vox-center within the Fortress Monastery, the Librarian had been well appraised of the situation among the colonies. Hordes of mutants and shambling plague zombies had attacked en masse, the militia auxiliaries had been overwhelmed in some of the communities and those that survived only did so thanks to the presence of a Space Marine. If those settlements were abandoned he realized, and all those people who had been depending on them...

Quickly pushing these terrible thoughts away, there was little they could now do but make sure that The Citadel did not fall. If the Stronghold of the Aquila Veritas was taken, their hold on Aru would be broken The realization of their failure gave rise to a great fury within the Librarian as he looked towards another Orgus which was engaged in a dog fight with a Tempest.

In a fit of rage, he hurled a bolt of warp-lightning which destroyed the machine and he casted even more arcs of elemental fury. Today they would fight, that was all what mattered now and tomorrow if they survived, they would count the dead.

* * *

Warp-lightning destroyed another of the Amaranthine Syndicate's Orgus Flyers and Naranair spat a curse. There was a psyker in the area, most likely an Astartes Librarian and a powerful one at that. The presence of the Landspeeders was also an added complication for his warband did not quite posses much in the way of anti-air weaponry, nor was their accuracy particularly competent enough to deal with such high speed (at least by human standards) units.

The armed servants of Space Marines fled from the slaughter brought about by Naranair's company, the humans had made the classic mistake of focussing their fire upon him rather than his underlings who did not carry any defensive shielding devices. As they fled past multiple structures which would normally be used by Space Marines to bring in their infantry, the roars of solid projectile guns were heard and many were cut down. Several primitive ground vehicles raced past him, the mercenary underlings of his warband hollered as their guns blazed.

An armored truck with the colours of the Leadheads gang opened fire with a barrage of bullets and bolters at the Landspeeders. In return, one of the gunships fired missile that scores a direct hit and the truck exploded. Hissing another curse, he should have expected such trouble.

Tapping into his Warsuit's communications unit, he tried to hail the _Grey Wyrm_ to summon for reinforcements but all he received was static. He then hailed the _Void Duchess_ and was glad to finally get an answer.

'This is Drachau' commed Naranair, using his call sign during operations. 'We have Landspeeder Gunships raining missiles on our position, tell that damned worm that we need more Flyers!'

'This is Red Queen, the Grey Wyrm is in battle with multiple interceptors' replied the voice of Captain Tarneth. 'There are Iconoclasts attacking it, along with the _Retribution_!'

'Lord of Murder!' muttered Naranair. 'Can you send us some air support?'

'We cannot in time but we will send you the next best thing' responded Lucretia.

'Send it as soon as you can!' commed Naranair as he cut the feed and he saw an Ordo Ignis vehicle explode in flames.

His Flickerfielded Venom swooped by overhead as Landspeeder pursued it, a missile barely missed the craft as the shape-shifter gunner on the back ineffectually returned fire with Splinter Rounds. He had been lucky when he destroyed that one Landspeeder earlier and he doubted that he would have such fortune against so much as four of the vehicles. Another Orgus was destroyed, this time from a missile which flew upwards and it was then that a Naranair had an idea

'Red Queen, this is Drachau, cancel the delivery, we will clear the skies' commed the Dark Eldar Captain.

'Acknowledged, give them hell Drachau' replies the female pirate captain with a confident tone in her voice.

'Follow me!' commands Naranair as he sprint ahead while simultaneously reloading his shardcarbine.

The wild gangs of mercenaries roved about, circling the squads of enemy infantry while some charged headlong into packed squads, the almost Wych-like Psycho Sirens gang being the most enthusiastic to get within close combat. The fanatical Ordo Ignis likewise get in up close, they scream crude praises to Khaine as they incinerate those in their path with flamers.

The Landspeeders continue to strafe and fire missiles, the Orgus Flyers are soon wiped out and three of the human gunships focus their efforts on the Venom. It is a testament to animus of the craft that it is so capable of weaving and dodging the missiles of the humans but he knew that it could not evade forever.

Firing on the run, he cut down three humans and he brought down more with a fusillade of gas grenades.

Soon they found what they were looking for, a group of heavy weapons operators wielding missile launchers. Although he still held some disdain for the crude technologies of the _mon'keigh_ , he had learned long ago that there were times when one can either afford to hold onto their pride or swallow it if they wanted to live.

Most worryingly though, he saw the lumbering, heavy form of a Space Marine among these heavy weapons crew. Warp energy danced around the Librarian who unleashed bolts of fire and lightning upon his warband and the effects were devastating.

'Kill that Space Marine!' commanded Naranair and as one, they attacked.

Firing more gas grenades, he lifted his right arm up and he sent a mental command to his modified terrorfex launcher, a plasma grenade was hurled while the guns of the others blazed. The Librarian immediately sensed their presences and he looked to Naranair's group.

With a single gesture, the Librarian caught the grenades in mid-air with a telekinetic grip and the explosives harmlessly detonated. The Space Marine then waved his hand and the very air ignited with flames which caught the Loxatl

Hardly giving the death of the mercenary any second thought, he emptied the rest of his shardcarbine's clip and like the grenades; the Librarian stopped them in mid-air. The Kroot mercenaries screeched and leapt forward, they discarded their Pulse Carbines and drew sharp blades. One of the Marine servants turned an Autogun upon a Kroot and he unleashed a fully automatic barrage which outright killed the alien while the other landed next to the Space Marine.

Tossing aside his Shardcarbine, the Dark Eldar Captain drew his Blaster and he fired a searing beam of Darklight which caught a human in the chest. The strength and armour piercing capabilities of the weapon was more than enough to blast open holes upon the hulls of tanks but for mere flesh, it completely vaporized them. Focusing his anti-armour shots on the common humans, he used the distraction provided by the sole remaining Kroot mercenary to clear out the area before turning his sight on the Space Marine.

Unsurprisingly, the kroot mercenary did not last very long as it tried to weave about and dodge the staff of the Librarian but the Space Marine managed to score a single strike which pulverized the alien's skull. Swiftly turning his Blaster on the psyker, Naranair fired a shot which would have struck the Astartes psyker but a flash of warp energy protected his target from the darklight lance. Cursing as the psyker turned his gaze upon the Dark Eldar Captain; the human's eyes were filled with electrical sparks, gauntleted hands as well crackled with lightning.

Despite his atrophied psychic abilities like most Dark Eldar, even Naranair could sense the power of this human. Such was the cold fury of the Space Marine that it lent him a great deal of psychic might. Quickly strafing to the side, he fired his Blaster again at full auto, the assault weapon's rate of fire would have been enough to cripple a Battle Tank but through warp-born power alone, the human withstood each shot.

The Space Marine psyker shouted a wordless roar and several bolts of lightning leapt from his gauntleted hands. Naranair narrowly avoided the psychic attack as it scorched the ground near him and he returned fire with more Darklight lances. From previous experiences in fighting psykers, the Dark Eldar Captain was aware of some warp powers which gave their users great resilience towards attacks, much like an energy shield and maintaining such a defense required a great deal of both concentration and warp energy.

Quickly getting an idea, he fired one last shot from his Blaster which was again blocked by a veil of psychic energy, Naranair then tapped into the comms network again as he ran and he ordered for every member of his warband to focus on the Librarian. Soon, every vehicle in range began to pour all of their ammunition on the Pskyer and he saw the psychic shield begin to weaken.

Caught in the open, the Librarian's warp-based shield soaked up many of the shots and he was forced to tap into deeper reserves of psychic power. The Librarian suddenly then began sprinting ahead, his was alacrity was greatly enhanced by an infusion of warp energy and he was out of the ring of corpses.

'Someone get those missile launchers!' demanded Naranair as he pulled out a plasma grenade from his belt and he thumbed the activation button. Giving the explosive device time to "cook", he mentally counted in his head every micro second that passed and he hurled it at the psyker.

The grenade flew true in the direction which the human was moving and the Space Marine caught it again in a telekinetic grip but this time, it exploded near enough to harm the Librarian. Gilded power armour and exposed flesh were seared by the blast but it did nothing to stop the Space Marine who then began to channel even more warp energy.

A loud, familiar roar followed by heavy footsteps were then heard as the Ogryn, Gorge, rushed at the Space Marine with two heavy Ork Choppa swords. Blood smeared the brutish beast's blades, armour and maw with bits of human flesh dangling from the hooks around his belt. Gorge moved very swiftly under the influence of combat drugs and his two blades were a whirling flurry of murderous strikes which could have easily lopped a greenskin's limb off.

With expert skill, the Librarian parried and blocked the attacks of the raging Ogryn, the Space Marine's body glowed with psychic brilliance and he managed to deliver a powerful strike upon his attacker. The head of the Librarian's staff slammed into the bulk of Gorge's chest but the beast merely staggered for a moment before quickly resuming his attack. It was a testament to both the mutant's fortitude and to the combat drugs which he consumed before battles that he was even able to survive being hit by a psychically charged weapon.

Chainblades then roared along with wild shrieks as the warrior women of the Psycho Sirens joined the fight. Equipped with buzzing blades which came in the forms of swords, axes, spears, knives or large great weapon versions of the first two, they attacked the Space Marine like rampaging Orks. The mechanical teeth of the chain weapons scratched and pitted the armour of the Librarian who amazingly managed to stay alive against such numbers but were clearly forced into focusing on defense.

An explosion of fire then came from above as a Landspeeder was shot down by missile fire and another one soon followed. For once, Naranair was glad that the humans installed homing mechanisms into certain explosive devices for it made the task of shooting down airborne targets much easier. One of the remaining Landspeeders fired another barrage of missiles but as the hail of explosives rained down, they prematurely detonated in mid air.

The movement of the gunships suddenly began to become jerky and in the next moment, two of them crumpled like paper while the last one was shot down by missiles. Naranair then began to feel another psychic presence in the area and much to his surprise; it was the psyker from the Astartes ship! And she should have been aboard the _Chillwind_.

Swiftly striding towards the Librarian with a force blade in hand, the woman who called herself Lynareth moved even faster than Naranair could see...

* * *

A thick patina of green blood stained the armour and face of Chapter Master Aurelius Harker. His movements were somewhat limped as his suit of Terminator Armour had sustained heavy damage in the fighting with the xenos pirates. It seemed that not all of the Orks were aware that their leader wad dead and the ones he had encountered so far had maintained enough coherency to focus their efforts upon him. Clutching his Relic Blade in his right-hand, his left held on to a looped leather belt taken from dead Orks, several crude xeno grenades were fastened to it.

Having intimate knowledge of the ship's layout, he headed towards the enginarium. If he could rig up enough explosives, he could use it to scuttle the Battle Barge and prevent it from falling into Ork hands. His own escape was a different matter all together for with the teleportarium destroyed, he could not just warp down to the planet's surface and he had no idea if there were still escape pods available.

There was also the problem of his unfamiliarity with the primitive, xenos technology of the orks. Had he been using human manufactured grenades, he could devise some clever delayed mechanism he had learned from his days as a Scout Marine. He had no idea how long he would have before the destruction of the engines tore the entire ship apart and there was a very good chance that he was going to die in the explosion.

As he went closer towards the enginarium, a question appeared in his thoughts and it was one which profoundly disturbed him. Could this all have been some sort of test from the Emperor? Some trial or perhaps punishment for their heresy?

Surely no for the Emperor had been a man of science, of logic and reasoning! The ancient recording he and the entire Chapter had seen was surely undeniable proof of what the Emperor himself had personally believed in and of his vision of Man's future. But the question had still remained.

The time stamp on the recording was unclear of when it was taken and he knew from tales and legends that the Emperor had existed long before the Horus Heresy. Could the recording have perhaps been made in some very early period of the Great Crusade? Could the Emperor have perhaps embraced his divinity at some future point before being placed upon the Golden Throne?

These questions became worms of doubt which wriggled about, eating away at his sense of judgement. Tightening the grip on his Relic Blade, he knew that now was not the time and place for debate. If he did not destroy the _Flame of Dymlos_ , the greenskins would bring untold ruin upon the Imperium at large.

Admittedly, Aurelius and his Brothers had already inflicted their own damage upon humanity but it seemed like a necessary one for the Crusade which would restore the Imperium to what the Emperor wanted.

But what if the Imperium today is what the Emperor had chosen for it to be? That dark voice asked again. What if, for all these years, they had been wrong, that all they had done is wrought even more suffering upon Humanity?

For a moment, his steps faltered as his self doubt grew and he froze there. What if I made a mistake he asked himself? What if by choosing this path, he had failed his entire Chapter in the eyes of the Emperor. His reverie was then broken as a gunshot rang out and he saw a group of small greenskins firing pistols at him from a distance.

Gritting his teeth, he charged toward them with Relic Blade in hand and the little xenos turned and ran. Typical, he snorted with disdain and he remained ready for no doubt the gretchin would call their ork masters. Stabbing his sword into the deck, he tied the belt around his armoured waist before reclaiming the Relic Blade and he resumed his path.

The way to the enginarium was filled with destruction, several dead auxiliaries and chapter serfs lined the way along with dead greenskins. Bullet casings lay scattered among the dead and the walls were filled with dents, holes, scorch marks and splashes of blood, both red and green. He could imagine that the Dark Gods of the Ruinous Powers took much amusement at such sights of slaughter and knowing the Orks, their own heathen deities would probably be entertained as well.

Ahead of him was a straight corpse strewn corridor, the bulkhead was left open and among the first things he noticed was the absence of a constant hum from the ancient engines of the ship. The lights were now a dark red as the emergency power was switched on and his Occulobe implants allowed him to quickly adjust to the lack of illumination. Two sudden flashes followed by gunshots came from the enginarium chamber ahead and a tide of small greenskins came flooding into the chamber, their high pitched shrills filled the chambers as they charged him with blades, cudgels and guns.

Shaking his head in disdain, he swept his Relic Blade in a murderous arc which decapitated five of the things. More green blood coated his sword as he slaughtered the little greenskins and for a Space Marine like him, it was nothing but a tiresome chore to have to slay something so lowly. One Greenskin leapt up at him with a club and the Chapter Master grabbed the thing by the neck.

With just the slightest of squeezes, he broke the neck of the gretchin as it dropped its cudgel and his eyes widened when he realized that it was not carrying a club. The Stikk grenade fell to the deck and before it made contact with the metal surface, it detonated along with dozens of others carried by the horde of gretchin.

Whatever questions Chapter Master Aurelius Harker had about his choice would remain unanswered as he took with him to the grave. The entire corridor leading into the enginarium exploded in fire and fragments which further caused severe damage to the already battered ship. Not far away, a group of Ork Mekboyz chuckled in amusement as they went back to work on fixing up the engine of the ship for it just wouldn't do if the life support went out and every living thing froze to death.

For the Mekboyz, they just couldn't wait to make the Battle Barge "Orky"...


	11. Chapter 10

The psychic strength of Amman-Zhar's barrier waned as he expended more power. The sheer amount of bullets, lasers and bolt rounds that struck his defences would have overwhelmed even a Terminator. His ears were filled with the roars of chainblades, revved engines and almost bestial war cries as feral bike mounted warrior women assailed in close combat.

Arcs of warp lightning leapt from the armoured fingertips of the Librarian, incinerating one biker who violently crashed into the ground. Pain began to flood his brain, blood flowed from his nostrils and eyes as he began to hear whispers in his thoughts but the rage kept him going. The unexpected attack of these heavily armed pirates had decimated the garrison on Aaru and it was pointless now to expect the rest of the Chapter to return in time to defeat the invaders.

Intent on killing as many of these pirates as he could, the Librarian channelled far more warp energy than what most trainedpsykers would have deemed safe until he practically blazed with witch-fire. His eyes became twin burning orbs as his body became wreathed with warp-born fury and he hurled a ball of flame that struck a heavy truck-like vehicle that was loaded with heavy stubbers. The front section of the machine exploded in fire and metal shards, the wreckage crushed another smaller vehicle and but still there were simply far more of them.

Powerful lances of dark energy then struck his shield and the Librarian turned his attention once more upon the xeno. Moving with the speed commonly associated with the Eldar, the alien warrior unleashed more shots and grenades that were launched that would have felled Amman-Zharr had he not erected his barrier. Focusing his will upon the foul xeno and attempting to telekinetically crush its body, he was alarmed when he suddenly sensed another psychic presence that dispelled his channelling.

Before the Librarian knew it, he saw the flash of a glowing blade aimed toward his neck and he was barely able to lift his Force Staff in time to parry the weapon. At the moment of impact, he felt a rush of psychic fury from the weapon of newest attacker who he briefly caught a glimpse of. Dressed in thick robes with a gleaming force blade in hand, the Librarian at first thought that it was another Eldar but immediately he realized otherwise.

His attacker then lifted up a hand towards him and a powerful telekinetic blast was thrown towards him. The Telekine barrier of Amman-Zharr shattered and the body of the Librarian was hurled like a brick. It took his brain a moment to realize that he was off of his feet and hurtling through the air, he felt a brief bout of vertigo before he painfully crashed into the broadside of an Armoury structure.

A constant wave of telekinetic fury battered at body of the Librarian who felt a great pressure pressing upon him, his own will was all that prevented him from being pulped like an insect. The ferrocrete walls of the Armoury groaned as it crumpled beneath the psychic onslaught. Roaring in defiance and pain, he saw again the enemy psyker whose form blazed brightly to his Witch-Sight.

+ _Give in_ +' a seductive, feminine voice whispered into his mind. 'Give yourself in and we will avenge the lost of your brothers, give in and we can help you...'

+ _Never_!+ mentally snarled Amman-Zhar, he would not give his soul up to the forces of Chaos! He would not allow his body to become the conduit that tore reality asunder! He would never willingly let servants of the Dark Gods take control of him!

+ _Do not succumb Space Marine_ \+ a new voice then spoke in his mind and the first recoiled in anger. ' _Please lay down and this will be all over swiftly, accept defeat and you will live this day_!'

+ _Lies_!+ the first voice then said and briefly did Amman-Zhar catch a glimpse of a thing that was both attractive and repulsive at once. + _The witch is deceiving you! If you surrender, you will merely face a far worse fate! Give yourself to us little Astartes and we will slay these wretched mortals!_ +

The telekinetic pressure on his body suddenly magnified and he heard the second voice admonish. + _Better to die cleanly and free of the daemon than let yourself be damned_!+

Amman-Zhar attempted to block out the two voices and instead he tried to summon the necessary energy to break free but before he could, a lance of armour-destroying dark energy pierced his psychic shield and it directly striking into exposed head. The Librarian died quickly and ignominiously, his soul was hardly aware of the death of his body and the things in the Warp which had sought to tempt him had instead found delicious prize waiting just waiting for them...

* * *

'About damn time' muttered Naranair as he lowered his spent Blaster. The decapitated corpse of the Mon'keigh Librarian collapsed to the grassy ground with a heavy thud. 'Secure the area and then start looting!' he then demanded of his underlings and soon they began spreading out around the base.

Turning his attention to the human psyker who had made a sudden appearance during the fight, he was unsure on whether he should be thankful or annoyed for his warband had everything under control. She stood merely a few metres away from him and he imagined that she could close such a distance within less than a heartbeat.

'So where is this object you are looking for' hecurtly asked the psyker.

'That which I seek lies within the heart of this bastion but for you, Scion of the Bleeding Court' replies Lynarethin a way which the Dark Eldar captain is unsure whether it is heard within his head or by his ears. She then lifts her psychic blade and she points it towards an Astartes structure which bore an ancient banner held in a stasis field, a Sacred Artifact he believed the Space Marines called it. 'Be wary Bringer of Wrath' the she then warns him, 'for within lies an object of utter corruption and deepest sin.'

'How cryptic' dryly remarked Naranair as he quickly changed the power cell of his Blaster.

'It is here our ways part but before we separate, I grant you a boon' continues Lynareth.

'A boon?' questions Naranair.

'When you face the Hydra, pierce not its heart but the Great Eye' answered the psyker.

'The Hydra?' asks the Dark Eldar with confusion and the outline of Lynareth begins to blur and distort like a Holo-Field. From the eyes of all who remained, the mysterious psyker vanished and Naranair was left with his unanswered questions. Shaking his head in disdain he then turned towards the Sacred Artifact, its walls bore only a few laser scorch marks and bullet holes but was more or less intact.

Heading towards the building, he activated his warsuit's communications unit and he called for his underlings to place a charge upon the ceramite automatic doors. His command was obeyed as a pair of humans quickly disengaged from the rest and they went towards the front of the building where they planted krak grenades smeared with adhesives. Once the charges were set, they sprinted off before the armour breaking explosives shattered the doors.

Dismissing the two underlings, Naranair entered the structure with his Blaster at the ready. There was something here he realized, a faint, sensation he recognized, Warp-craft. Even to one whose senses had been deadened to the Sea of Souls, Naranair could feel its unnatural aura.

The interior of the Sacred Artifact structure was a strange mix of a library, storage room and a landing zone. From previous experience in battling Astartes, the psykers and medical officers of the Space Marines made use of this particular structure and at the moment. All he saw inside the building were stacked metal crates, items taken from the raids of the Renegade Astartes.

Having absolutely no idea where to start and unable to pinpoint the source of the unnatural aura, Naranair muttered a curse and he reached for his belt. From a leather satchel at the side of his waist, he produced a small box shaped device which was etched in arcane glyphs. Pressing his thumb upon one such glyph, the box began to light up and tendrils of light emerged from it.

The object was known as a Fractal Web, a somewhat rare device used by people to safely transport large inorganic object. He had first heard of the devices existence after the fall of the Archon, Surasis Grief, the creator of the mighty Tantalus. It had been not easy for Naranair to find someone in the Dark City who had the knowledge of how to create such an item and price had been steep but well worth it.

Operating the device via the glyphs, the tendrils of the Fractal Web ensnared the mass of containers and once he was confident that everything was secure, he tapped a different glyph. There was a brief flash of light and soon every container was gone, all transported aboard the _Chillwind_. Quietly nodding, he sharply turned around and headed back outside.

When he emerged from the Sacred Artifact, Naranair saw his underlings eagerly begin looting what they could from the fallen base. Smoke rose high from flames and flares as he heard over the communications network that the transports were en-route towards them. Fresh screams rang out as the surviving defenders soon became the playthings of his Warband's more "unhinged" (at least by human standards) members.

Having drunk down on so much pain this day, he felt rather refreshed and satisfied with the ruthless efficiency of their raid, despite the losses which would be easily once they got back to Footfall. Activating his communications unit again, he sent a message to the _Chillwind_ and he ordered for them to broadcast a message to the rest of the fleet. Signalling for his personal Venom to pick him up, he then brought up his portable Webway device.

The mission was complete and it was time for them to leave.

* * *

Feeling the light recoil of his Autogun, Jared fired a controlled burst of solid rounds that brought down another zombie. A foul tide of walking corpses besieged the palisade walls of the colony, rotted hands scratched at the sturdy wooden barrier which was the only thing that kept them safe. There was no end to the undead horde and already, he felt a deep sense of dread in his heart.

If he could, he would run, but he had seen only more zombies on the other side of the colony. He fired another burst that was aimed at the head of a cadaver and it exploded like an overripe melon. His gun clicked and he immediately ejected the empty magazine before putting his last clip.

Whispering a quiet prayer to the Emperor, despite what the Aquila Veritas preached, he had found it hard to entirely shake off the old habit. Raising his weapon once more and peering down the iron-sight, he was about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the zombies just stopped. As one the walking corpses became still like statues, guns continued to open fire and the dead remained silent before finally they turned around.

The weapons of the colonial militia became silent as well and confusion spread among the living defenders. Watching as the dead shambled away, there was a mixed sense of relief and wariness. For many long hours they waited there, watching to see if whether the horde would return or not.

It would be more than a day later until any living soul stepped out of the gates, the stench of death had become overpowering. Their only solace was that after the attack, they had attempted to vox the other colonies and were relieved to find that others had survived. Soon they would set out to meet with the other colonies and they would count their losses before beginning with the task of rebuilding.

* * *

High in orbit above the world of Aaru, four ships made their way out of the planet's gravity well. The _Chillwind_ and the _Vashanesh_ had come out unscathed due to having sat out the entirety of the space battle, the Grey Wyrm on the other hand was a heavily damaged wreck. At the lead of the pirate vessels was was the _Void Duchess_ which sailed silently across the cold emptiness of space, its mighty guns were prepared for any oncoming attackers.

They had attempted to hail the _Retribution of Tranch_ but the mutant controlled had vessel had responded with silence and the rest of the fleet had little interest in checking on their compatriot's wellbeing. Anarchy spread among the Ork Fleet, word had gotten out that Kaptain Starkilla was dead and the Nobz of the Freebooter fleet had in typical greenskin fashion, turned on one another, jockeying for control. Unwilling to expend the lives of crew members amidst the internecine fighting, the four ships continued their way.

Once the ships reached the edge of the system, three Arvus Lighters left the hangars of the _Void Duchess_ , _the Grey Wyrm_ and the _Vashanesh_ , each of the craft were headed towards the _Chillwind_. After a number of brief minutes, the vessels docked within the hangars of the pirate vessel. There was not much fanfare among the crew of the _Chillwind_ to meet the other captains, save of course for their alien master.

Patiently awaiting his fellow Captains, Naranair watched as the first shuttle entered the hangar, the Arvus Lighter was like many mon'keigh manufactured vehicles, crude and ugly to his eyes but he of course remained silent on the matter. The vessel landed within the center of a red painted square on the deck, its legs settled upon the metal with a deep thud and a boarding ramp extended from the rear. From the Arvus came Captain Lucretia who was dressed as ever in her extravagant garments of crimson and gold which were cleverly woven with Craftworld Mesh.

Captain Tarneth came alone of course; a confident and amused grin was spread across the pirate lady's face as her gloved hands casually rested upon the hilts of a pair of power blades. In a fight, Naranair grudgingly had to admit that for a human, Lucretia was unusually skilled, a testament to the teachings of the Corsair Prince of whom she served. Her stride carried with it a measure of grace which he found more appealing in comparison to the clumsy gait of most humans and out of mutual respect, he lifted one hand to her with palm facing Lucretia who mirrored the gesture.

Shortly afterwards, came the shuttle of Lashameia or "Lady Elizabeth von Karsen" as the shape-shifter now called itself. There was hardly anything noble or lady-like in the appearance of the parasitic, warp-born creature whose true appearance was nothing short of bestial. The shape-shifter languidly lay upon a plush anti-gravity bier, an opened razor edged fan was held in its hands as it gave him a look that was both predatory and lascivious.

The last to arrive was Intendent Intemperance; the heavily robed Slaugth was in a way much like Lashameia for both were possessed of an endless hunger and both travelled beneath a human guise. For the moment, Intendent Intemperance took the form of a particularly ugly human male whose visage was marked with old scars born of disease. A long handled spear was clutched in the pale hands of Intendent Intemperance, a Necrotic Lance as it was called, a powerful weapon that was capable of firing beams of energy as powerful as a Darklight weapon.

'I welcome you all aboard the _Chillwind'_ greeted the Dark Eldar and on cue, one of his Draichs came forward and bearing in its clawed arms an intricately engraved, brazen casket that was slightly larger than a Ratling. The flesh construct presented it towards the remaining Captains. It had taken some searching through the mass of containers but thanks to a bit of "help" from the captured astropaths and navigators taken from the Astartes Strike Cruiser it seemed that the blind psyker was correct and they had found the source of the unnatural aura.

'Is that what we were looking for?' questioned Captain Tarneth with a raised eyebrow.

'I can sense power within it' observed Lashameia. 'Dark, familiar and terrible.'

'But what could be held within?' gurgled Intendent Intemperance towards the shape-shifter.

Curious as the rest of them were, Naranair did remember the words of the Rogue Trader's Seneschal about how the less they knew the better. Of course the human envoy of the Metzger Dynasty had not specified on whether they could actually learn for themselves on what the prize was. Ordering the Draich to hand the casket over to the shape-shifter, the flesh construct obeyed and it marched towards Lashameia who reached out to take the object.

A surprised hissed came from the warp-born parasite as it hissed and for a moment, its illusion faltered and Naranair saw a semblance of it true, Chiropteran features. The human-like visage then reasserted itself as the air around became filled with an unnatural charge as Lashameia began drawing energy from the Warp itself. From personal experience, the Naranair knew when there was sorcery in use and he instinctively became more wary for there was always the dangers of a miscast when one channelled the powers of the Othersea.

His gauntleted right hand remained close to the grip a Splinter Pistol holstered by his side while his left did likewise with another. Nervously expecting for something to go wrong and daemons to begin coming out of the walls, he then saw the brazen casket which Lashameia held begin to vibrate. A soft click then came from the container, it opened up like a book and the shape-shifter flipped open to lid to reveal its contents.

Within the brazen casket was what looked to be a leather bound tome with eldritch symbols inscribed upon the surface and its spine seemed to have been made from bone. The faint unnatural aura which he had earlier felt suddenly became deep waves of dread within his soul and it felt like he stood in the presence of a Daemon. The remaining Captains felt as he did and they each weathered it wills of iron.

'A grimoire' commented Lashameia as it cast a covetous look upon the tome. 'One of Chaotic Lore'

'It seems old Leonhardt has stepped up his game' added Lucretia with thinly veiled hostility. 'Are we really going to return this to him?'

'Such items are worth a great deal to the right buyer' added Intendent Intemperance in a voice which approached avarice. The Slaugth was of course correct in the matter for within the Imperium, there was no shortage of individuals from the wealthy elite to scholars and inquisitors who would pay a pretty price for a genuine repository of arcane knowledge.

'We did accept the contract' reminded Naranair. 'What the Rogue Trader, Leonhardt Metzger wishes to do with the tome is his business.'

'I suppose you are correct...' hesitantly replied Lucretia and the Dark Eldar Captain was inclined to agree for like the mistress of the Void Duchess, Naranair was not particularly fond of the slaves of the Dark Gods, especially the minions of She Who Thirsts. Of all the beings that existed in the Great Wheel, Naranair took the greatest of pleasures from killing the followers of Chaos... next to those pathetic Stryxis of course.

For as long as he knew the Rogue Traders of the Metzger Dynasty had dealt in, Naranair was deeply aware that a great deal of their wealth came from the trade of dangerous items. From ancient alien relics recovered from the ruins of dead worlds to dangerous beasts from Death Worlds, there were many things which even Naranair himself was personally responsible in procuring. While it was no great stretch that Leonhardt Metzger would expand towards objects of Chaos, he was nevertheless surprised by the revelation.

In the end, he had agreed to return the lost item and he had a reputation to maintain. Of course, it was not as if his current contract had said anything about letting others know about it and there were certain individuals who would be most interested in knowing of this dealing. A devilish grin spread across his face as he plotted about how to best profit from this new development.

* * *

 _A few weeks later within the Koronus Expanse..._

Aboard the Havoc Class Merchant Raider, _Star of Handrich_ (of which was one of many owned by his master), Seneschal Erron Caulder nervously awaited the arrival of their "hired help" within a luxuriously decorated lounge which was exclusively reserved for the highest ranking officers aboard the ship. The appointed meeting place was near an abandoned asteroid mining colony which had quickly been vacated as soon as all the ore ran out; it was now a favoured spot where all sorts scum such as pirates, smugglers, rebels and even heretics conducted business away from Imperial authorities. The _Star_ itself drifted a short distance away from the lawless port where four other ships now remained within vox range.

Restlessly pacing about like a caged animal, he checked his Chrono and found that there was still a minute before the appointed time, sweat beaded upon his brow as he tried to maintain his composure.

'Just relax' called Maric van Hoenn as he sat upon plush, nearby chair with a crystalline goblet of amasec in one hand. 'I swear you are as restless as a Grox in heat.'

'Relax!' replied the Seneschal with annoyance and almost shouting it. 'May I remind you that we are dealing with the sort of things which the Inquisition would have us executed for even talking to, even our lord's Warrant of Trade won't be able to protect us!'

'They won't find out' calmly stated Maric as he took a sip from his glass. 'You know as much as I do that the Inquisitors have no eyes and ears in this part of the Expanse and even if they suspected something, they would not dare move against our lord without solid evidence.'

For a moment, Erron stared at the seemingly non-chalant Arch-Militant for although the man's words had some truth to it, the Seneschal was still anxious about this meeting for ever since leaving Footfall, he had taken the time to do some digging into his master's affairs (as quietly and as discretely as possible of course) and what he had learned had deeply disturbed him. The Rogue Trader Leonhardt Metzger II it seemed and a great many other Rogue Trader Dynasties which they had close ties with went beyond what their Warrant of Trades would ever allow. Deals with xenos mercenaries and such were one thing but his master had also had a hand in supplying various factions of rebels, pirates and even far worse groups across the Imperium.

If the Inquisition even knew half of what he had learned, then his master's life would be forfeit and Erron's as well by association. If he wanted to stay alive, it would be in his best interest to keep such sensitive information hidden from the authorities as well as those who would profit from the demise of his master. Before he could respond to the Arch-Militant, a sudden charge filled the air which was followed by a brief flash of blinding light that flared from behind him.

Turning around to face the new arrivals, Erron first saw the Eldar who wore a suit of bladed armour, his face was cast in imperious expression as he looked upon both the Seneschal and the Arch-Militant while a sinister skull-faced helmet was hooked to left side of his hip and he carried brazen container. Next to the alien was the lady pirate Captain, Lucretia Tarneth of whom he had met on multiple occasions before on behalf of his master. His targeting monocle made a quick scan of the two and it found no visible weapons which they carried, this in effect did nothing about relieving his unease.

'I am pleased to say that we have successfully returned your prize' announced the xeno as he presented to them the casket. 'We have also destroyed what we believe was the main base of operations for the Renegade Astartes but alas it seemed most of these wayward raiders were out of the system when we launched our assault.'

'But we have the coordinates of their world' added Captain Tarneth with an amused grin. 'Feel free to pass the information on to the Imperial Navy; I am sure that they will be most interested in handling this matter.'

Nodding warily, Erron lifted his right wrist up near his mouth and he activated a concealed vox bead beneath the cuff of his coat. 'Deliver the payment' he spoke into the device and after a second, a sealed automatic door leading into the lounge opened up to reveal a pair of Ogryn guards/ menservants dressed sharply in attires of valets. The brutish abhumans pushed a heavy grav-cart bearing six large chests of armaplas, the combined weight of the containers would have made any more conventional modes of transport impractical and noisome.

The Ogryns soon came to a halt near them and the Seneschal dismissed the abhumans, giving them time to leave before moing towards a small console at the front of the cart where he disengaged its magnetic locks. Once the containers were no longer magnetized, Erron opened the lid of one chest and for a brief moment, his eyes became entranced of what lay within. A great hoard of coins in both gold or silver were mixed with exquisite pieces of jewellery and finely cut gems, the wealth within one container alone would have allowed a man to buy his own Feudal World kingdom.

'A most acceptable payment' announced Captain Tarneth with an avaricious gleam in her eye and even the alien seemed satisfied. 'Please send old Leonhardt our most deepest regards.'

The xeno then produced a small pyramid shaped device from a satchel attached to his belt and it began to light up with alien sigils. In a matter of moments, a shimmering disc of light appeared next to the alien from it came a hulking group of rather grotesque looking creatures of swollen muscles, crudely placed cybernetics and faceless helmets. The Seneschal stepped back in fear at the sight of these horrors and every instinct told him to grab his laspistol.

'Don't' whispered van Hoenn and Erron looked to the Arch-Militant who gave him a grim look that said "if you pull that weapon out, we are both dead"

The gholam-like creatures then picked up and carried away the chests into the shimmering disc of light before being followed by the Lady Captain and the xeno who gave the case to Maric. As soon as the two pirates stepped through, the disc of light began to dissipate until nothing of it remained and for a long tense moment, Erron could hardly believe that everything had gone so smoothly.

'I told you that you needed to relax' chided the Maric. 'Now let's go, we should not keep the client waiting.'

Letting out a sigh of relief, Erron nodded to the Arch-Militant and he activated his vox bead again. As he ordered for the ship to prepare its entry into the warp, he realized that despite his four years in service to the Metzger Dynasty, he had barely scratched the surface of his master's "other" endeavours. There was much he still had learn he supposed but was confident that given time, he would serve his lord well and would quite richly rewarded for it.

* * *

Unknown to all the souls aboard the _Star of Handrich_ , a fifth ship had been in attendance with the meeting. A fairly small vessel which incorporated components of xenos technology, silently watched the Rogue Trader vessel, its crew remained on standby and alert for any new happenings. Aboard the bridge of this concealed vessel a domineering, lone figure, the mistress of the ship whose features were completely concealed by a suit of gilded power armour, the eye lenses of this individual's grim helmet were focused upon the holo-screen monitors that provided a live visual and audio feed of the _Star of Handrich_ and the four pirate ships.

After what was surely a brief meeting, a soft series of beeps were heard from floating skull probe which remained near its owner. The sound o heavy boot steps thudded from behind as another armoured figure, one who was a giant of a man came forth and gave a respectful bow.

'The target is preparing to leave my lady' said the warrior whose ancient armour was the colour of steel-grey and his eyes were concealed behind twin lenses of cold blue. 'Shall we pursue?'

'We go' grimly commanded the Lady Inquisitor Mirella Seros, of the Ordo Malleus and at once they silently followed the Rogue Trader vessel.


	12. Epilogue

A fresh wave of pain coursed through the left hand of Naranair as he slid the edge of a blade across his palm. He stood once more before the Obsidian Shrine, his lips parted in a silent prayer to the Lord of Murder whose fierce gaze filled him with reverence. For the moment, he stood alone with the statue of Khaine, the fanatics of the _Ordo Ignis_ would soon conduct one of their ridiculous ceremonies and the Dark Eldar Captain merely wished to offer his gratitude to the Bloody Handed one in solitude.

The _Chillwind_ was once more set on course back to Footfall, the money gained from their recent employment would be more than enough to hire replacements for their losses and indulge in the varied vices which so many of them favoured. For a moment, he wondered what would become of the Rogue Trader Dynasty which had occasionally provided him with employment. He was certain that the... "other" parties which would have been interested in the grimoire which they had found would make sure that his tip off remained anonymous and that it would not be traced back to him.

Anyone who would willingly deal with things such as entities or artefacts of Chaos had what was coming to them and he had no remorse for whatever fate awaited them. Briefly he wondered upon the Renegade Space Marines and those many who had been outside of the system during their assault. He imagined that the Imperium would be mobilizing a task force to eliminate these rogue astartes and knowing the genetically enhanced warriors, it would be a bloody conflict.

As he finished offering his prayer, he heard a crackle from his warsuit's communications unit.

'Uh, my lord, we have a situation here on the bridge' spoke the voice of Saris.

'What sort of situation?' questioned the Dark Eldar with suspicion.

'We ah, have guests, some of your old friends' replied the human and the eyes of the Dark Eldar widened in realization.

'I will be right there and whatever happens, do nothing foolish!' announces Naranair who then cuts the channel. Quickly turning around from the shrine, he headed towards the doorway and into the corridors of the ship.

With a quick pace he travelled towards the bridge, the thralls wisely stayed out of his way as mercenary crewmen seemed oblivious to what was going on. Ignoring his various underlings, he swiftly arrived at his intended destination and when the automatic doors opened, he was greeted with a rather unwelcoming sight. The crew stationed upon the bridge remained in their posts, they cast nervous glances at one another as several all too familiar, lithe, heavily armed figures clad in dark bladed stood by with weapons at the ready.

At the centre of the bridge, behind his command throne, a warrior wearing armour like Naranair's own and wielding a storm wreathed halberd patiently waited for him. Twin eye lenses of emerald green gazed upon Naranair and a deep, commanding voice emanated from the warrior.

'The Archon demands your presence, Dracon Wrathbringer' spoke the Incubus in an authoritative tone as he produced a familiar, portable device which would open a path into the Webway. 'We leave now, to the Nexus of Shadows.'

* * *

Upon the bridge of the _Dominus Victoriam_ , Captain Torbenius of the Aquila Veritas seethed with hate at the sight laid before him. His eyes peered through the lenses of his ornate helmet which were focused on the viewport of the Strike Cruiser's bridge where in the void he saw what had become of the _Flame of Dymlos_. Its venerable hull had been defiled by the filthy touch of the greenskins. crude plates, spikes and barbarous iconography decorated the surface of the Battle Barge as it unleashed a volley of deadly fire upon them. For almost an entire Terran week now, the Chapter of the Aquila Veritas fought to reclaim the system which had fallen to the Orks. Upon the surfaces of worlds, on airless moons and in the void of space, the Space Marines and their auxiliaries fought the green horde.

The Librarians had claimed to have sensed a great disturbance from Aaru and after sending astropathic messages to the rest of the Chapter, they had rallied together and launched a crusade to both cleanse the system and avenge their fallen brethren. It was a troubling mystery as of how the world fell and one they hoped to unravel as they dealt with the xenos. Several alien fighter crafts were destroyed by the guns of the Dominus, its machine spirit was just as outraged as the Marines themselves upon seeing defilement of the Dymlos.

Squadrons of Fury Interceptors engaged in deadly dog fights with their xenos counterparts, their deadly dances were followed by the keen eyes of the Space Marine Captain who directed the pilots assigned to the _Dominus_. The Strike Cruiser then shook as a series of xeno explosive shells fired from the _Dymlos_ struck the void shield of the _Dominus_ , its hull remained unscathed by the barrage of fire which would have easily destroyed entire hab-blocks and like the rest of the fleet, it moved in for the kill. Red runes then appeared on a holo-screen above the Captain who looked up and nodded before sharply turning around.

It was time he thought as his gauntleted right hand clutched the grip of his chainsword and was soon joined by many of his fellow Space Marines. Trusting in the training and skill of the serfs and auxiliaries, the small group of Astartes were joined by more of their Battle Brothers who headed to the launch bays where the Assault Boats and Thunder Hawks awaited them. As they neared the bay, warning klaxons blared and the voice of a servitor spoke of incoming boarding craft.

'Evasive manoeuvres!' demanded the Captain over the vox and all of a sudden, the _Dominus_ violently shook. Fearing that they had been hit, Torbenius immediately demanded for a situation report and what he had heard was far worse.

Repurposed boarding pods from the Dymlos had breached the hull of the Dominus, disgorging a host of greenskins within the Strike Cruiser and immediately, the HUD on the Captain's helmet was updated with a navigational pointer which directed him to the nearest boarding pod. Issuing orders over the vox, he commanded for every Marine aboard the Dominus to repel the boarders and he then felt another tremor of the ship but one that was nearer. Looking to a squad of fellow Astartes mostly armed with close combat weapons and pistols, he nodded and headed off down the corridor.

There was a loud staccato of heavy bolter rounds followed by screams of pain and it did not take long for him to find the source. A partially collapsed atrium which was connected to one of the gun decks was filled with wreckage and corpses of a small number of Serfs. Within the atrium stood a foul xeno monstrosity of belching smoke, steam and scavenged adamantium.

A greenskin bastardization of a Dreadnought had boarded the _Dominus_ , its arms ended not in the murderous blades one would expect from the Orkish battle-walkers but instead, it was heavily loaded with many, many guns. A white painted plate shaped to resemble an ork skull covered the front of the vehicle, the right eye was riveted with a separate rusty plate, giving it the impression of a common pirate's eye patch.

'AHOY UMIEZ!' bellowed a deep, barbarous and mechanical voice from the xeno walker which sounded almost cheerful. 'KAPTIN STARKILLA IZ BACK AND E IZ BRINGIN DA DAKKKA! WAAAAAGGGHHHH!'

The next thing Captain Torbenius knew, the entire atrium was filled with a deadly storm of bolter shells, solid slugs and high explosive rockets that shattered even ceramite. Firing his bolt pistol at the walker, his shots detonated upon the surface of the machine and doing very little damage while he sprinted towards it with a battle cry upon his lips. Shots flew past the Space Marine Captain as he closed the distance, the life signs of Battle Brothers flat-lined as the walker continued its barrage.

Before Torbenius could get close enough to even wield his Chainsword, a gout of flame from spewed from one of the walker's guns, dousing his armoured form in burning promethium that cooked him alive. Loud mechanical laughter filled the corridors of the Dominus as the xeno Dreadnought revelled in the slaughter.

* * *

Serenity filled the mind of the Watcher as she silently strode through the pristine halls; a soft song that was both sad and beautiful was heard within her thoughts which drowned out the call from that which she carried. In the hands of Lynareth, she held the puzzle box, that which it contained called to the blind psyker, beckoning to be released but she had not the slightest clue on how to open it. Its artifice was not of human origin and her mind could not comprehend and the were only a few beings in the galaxy who knew the sequence needed to unlock the secrets within and it was what brought Watcher to the great world ship, _Vaul-Anarath_.

Gracefully sailing upon the solar winds of a young star, its engines fed upon the brilliant light like a plant, powering its systems with the much needed energy required for a vessel of such size. To the spirit-sight of the Watcher, everything appeared vibrant and colourful, the souls of the many different aliens which resided aboard the ship gave off a variety of hues, some bright like the great beacon of Terra, others dim like candles in the dark. A soft, mournful and hauntingly beautiful song seemed to resonate from within the soul of ship and Lynareth was forced to close her thoughts to it, lest she be lost in its melody.

The Watcher then passed a hall filled with the artifacts of many races, great or small, each a trophy, a memento to the past victories of the alien lord who ruled this place. Echoes of battle and conflict whispered from each of items, all had once belonged to a mighty champion and some such as those which were psychic in nature had also called to Lynareth, begging to be wielded again. Ignoring these relics and maintaining her stride, the psyker soon passed through a great pair of doors and the harmony which she felt had magnified.

An elegant bridge that crossed over a gently flowing stream was laid before her and it connected to an isle that brimmed with life. From this artificial island came a melange of pleasing, fragrant scents and at the heart of it, shining the brightest of all was the spirit of the one she sought. Few beings had the knowledge and wisdom which the xeno lord, fewer still would be so easy to reach, yet as always, there would be a price to pay.

Whatever were the terms of the Corsair Prince's service, the Watcher would be willing to pay, especially when the stakes would be so high. And so Lynareth travelled, towards the heart of Vaul-Anarath and towards the court of Eorlianeth Ansgar.

* * *

Stepping out from a shimmering webway portal, Naranair Wrathbringer briefly felt reality asserting itself upon his body and something else which he found all too pleasing. The dark energies born of agony and fear filled which all of his kind fed upon was thick in air, screams of pain and cruel laughter echoed in distance. A faint scent of narcotic fumes mixed freshly spilled blood tickled at his nostrils and for a brief moment of nostalgia, the Dark Eldar Captain felt that he was at home.

The Kabalite Warriors that had escorted him were silently dismissed by the Incubus who remained and no words were needed to be said as the two of them headed towards the bridge of the vessel. A cursory glance was all Naranair needed to see before he recognized that he was aboard the flagship of his Kabal's Archon, _The Fellheart_ , a heavily modified Void Stalker class Battleship from the time before the Fall. Considering that he was aboard as mighty a ship as _The Fellheart_ , rather than the more common Torture class Cruiser, it gave him an inkling of what the Archon wanted of him.

Carefully surveying his surroundings as they went on, he began to notice a distinct lack of either armed patrols or slaves. Considering the abundance of pain in the atmosphere, it was likely that most of the Kabal were busy being amused by some bloody spectacle but to have so much at once? It was most likely that his Kabal would be preparing for something, not just a mere raid he thought but something far greater.

It did not take them long before they eventually arrived in the bridge of the ship and the Dark Eldar Captain immediately began to straighten and take a more formal poise. After a moment, the Incubus conducted him into the bridge where a great many of their fellow Kabalites busily worked the systems of the ship from own terminals. At the centre of the bridge was the command throne of which was suspended on an anti-gravitic device and upon the seat was the Archon herself.

Slowly walking up to the Lady of their Kabal, Naranair felt many familiar eyes upon him but none bore so deeply as that of the Archon's whose visage was concealed behind a bladed helmet that had been wrought to resemble the fierce countenance of a dragon of legend. For a brief moment, Naranair's eyes became locked onto that of the Archon's and after a moment, he bowed his head in deference.

'My Dread Lady' announced Naranair in tone of respect and obedience towards the Archon. 'What services may I, your humble servant provide?'

'The Kabal marches' coolly replied Archon Zhalarena. 'To a world within the east of the Great Wheel, to a planet known as Nussara Seven...'


End file.
